


Fame

by sarabethloves



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Journalist AU, Movie Star AU, Slow Burn, future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23665996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarabethloves/pseuds/sarabethloves
Summary: Needing any form of work she can get, up-and-coming journalist, Rukia Kuchiki, takes a job at a tabloid newspaper covering the hotshot movie star, Ichigo Kurosaki. In the process of getting dirt on the notoriously private celebrity, she ends up becoming entangled in his business and his life. When the media thinks you're dating a movie star the best you can do is play along, right?
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

"Shit, shit, SHIT," Rukia Kuchiki grumbled, her hands gripping the steering wheel of her run-down sedan so hard they began to turn white. The standstill traffic stretched a seemingly endless distance ahead of her and the young and frazzled twenty-two-year-old wondered if she'd ever make it out alive, let alone to her final destination on time.

"Urahara is going to kill me for sure this time," she commented to herself, just picturing the inevitable encounter with her sketchy and eccentric boss once she told him she'd missed the press conference because she got stuck in traffic. It wasn't _her_ fault the production company's publicists had decided to hold the press conference for their new raunchy rom-com in the middle of rush hour in one of the busiest cities in East Asia. Still, her boss would find a way to pin it on her anyway. As incompetent as he was at his _own_ job he still expected nothing but the best from his reporters.

 _Stupid, lowly tabloid job I don't even care about is going to make it so I drop further down the journalism ladder,_ Rukia thought to herself angrily. This would mark the third time she had failed to cover a story her boss asked her to get the dirt on. Urahara was flighty and obnoxious, but he still had standards and she figured she was on a 'three strikes and you're out' basis with him. The first two times were due more to her 'stay out of the way and keep to yourself' personality than her tardiness. A tabloid reporter was, by definition, nosy and willing to step across any boundary to get the scoop. Rukia never felt comfortable doing so. She knew that if the situation was reversed and she was the celebrity with something to hide, she'd loathe any low-life tabloid journalist trying to butt into her life.

"That's just what reporters do, Rukia," she mocked, twisting her voice into a terrible imitation of her boss.

'Poke around, ask lots of questions, and leave the consequences to me' was Urahara's infamous motto. As ridiculous as the man was, that philosophy had given him the most popular and 'relatively' credible tabloid newspaper out of them all. He was legendary in the business, and almost any celebrity with half a brain knew to watch out for him.

But she and Urahara were opposites. Rukia didn't ask a lot of questions. She preferred to listen to her interviewees and write an elaborate story with flourishing language and polished syntax. Of course, that kind of journalism was more suited for a business journal than for a trashy tabloid. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there were a lot of connections in the tabloid industry with higher-level journals and newspapers. Everyone had to start somewhere and unfortunately for Rukia, Urahara's _Tokyo Digest_ was that somewhere.

As the cars in front of her inched along, Rukia had to remind herself why she was doing this in the first place. It may not be glamourous, but this shitty reporting job put the gas in her old car and the microwavable frozen dinners on her table. Ever since her brother practically disowned her for her career choices, she'd been living on her own, taking whatever terrible job she could get to pay the bills. This was the first lowly job that had even remotely anything to do with her future career field. It was a stepping stone to what could be something great. She had to remind herself of that fact almost constantly.

Of course, she thought, it doesn't even matter anymore. The traffic wasn't letting up and the minutes continued ticking on by. The press conference she was assigned to attend would be starting in ten minutes and she was at least twenty away _without_ the traffic. She had to resist the urge to bang her head on her steering wheel repeatedly. At this point she couldn't afford a trip to the emergency room for a concussion on top of being late.

Her phone buzzing in the passenger seat caught her attention and brought her out of her depressing thoughts. She sighed when she read the text message that was displayed on her home screen.

'From: Mr. Bossman

Got word the press conference is going to start late. Kurosaki is stuck in traffic and won't be there for at least another half hour. Hope you brought some coffee! 3'

Rukia rolled her eyes at her boss's flippant way of relaying information, though the sentiment was subdued given the relief that was currently washing over her. Leave it to the celebrities she covered to save the day, and potentially her job. As flighty and random as her boss was, the celebs she was forced to get information out of were even worse.

Any self-respecting human, famous or not, wouldn't exactly look forward to media attention. Not a single celebrity she interacted with ever appeared to enjoy a press conference or interview. Media appointments were nothing more than a check on their to-do list to rake in their incredible salaries. And, from what she had heard, the new hotshot movie star she was covering today was one of the media's biggest issues.

Ichigo Kurosaki was the typical handsome and dashing up-and-comer who had that mysterious 'bad boy' edge that made any woman within ten feet of him swoon. He was this particular production company's favorite new male lead and had already starred in a number of their hit rom-coms and chick flicks. He was notoriously hard to nail down for any kind of interview other than what was strictly required for the movies he was in. He apparently did an impressive job keeping his private life private. No one knew what girl he was dating or what new trends he was into because he kept most of it behind closed doors. What was really attractive (at least to everyone working in the tabloid industry) were the few times he lost his privacy and let a few juicy snippets leak through of what might be happening off camera.

It was nothing too earth-shattering, at least in Rukia's opinion, but what the media had managed to get from him had kept them wanting more. Leaked photographs of him and a past co-star doing naughty things outside their hotel room in the Caribbean, a few altercations with paparazzi who got a little too up close and personal, and rumored 'diva issues' with past personal assistants and other movie staff. All in all he sounded like any other celebrity, but there was just something about him that made him one of the top new media hotspots.

So, despite the fact that a press conference was hardly the place a lowly tabloid reporter should really be, Urahara had sent her off to try and grab something. Really anything other than his movie business was appreciated, but Rukia was confused as to why Urahara trusted her of all people with one of his new favorite targets.

She wasn't aggressive, she felt uncomfortable asking personal questions, and she just knew that in a room full of reporters with years, even decades, more experience than her combined with a celebrity that seemed to have a vendetta against everything she worked for, she wasn't going to be able to get a word in edgewise, let alone gather 'juicy' information.

But hey, at least now with Ichigo Kurosaki's tardiness she'd have the opportunity to at least say she tried. Unable to get anything out of a notoriously hard to crack celebrity was a much better excuse than 'I got stuck in traffic'.

Now with a new glimpse of hope, Rukia weathered the rest of the downtown Tokyo traffic as best she could, made it to the location of the press conference seemingly before the movie producers, publicists, and the popular male lead had, miraculously managed to find a parking spot and walked up to a small room. She showed the guard her credentials and was ushered inside with an emotionless nod. Inside, dozens of reporters and photographers were milling about. Most of them seemed to know each other or were at least willing to exchange pleasantries while Rukia found one of the last open seats in the middle of the crowd and plopped herself down. At the front of the room was a long table covered in a plain, black cloth with a banner behind it displaying the movie's logo.

Rukia looked around the room at the rest of her 'colleagues'. Some were from reputable entertainment magazines and websites, others she was sure were probably more locally based, and then there was her. The very obvious tabloid newspaper journalist who everyone immediately looked down upon as soon as they got a glimpse of her credentials. She let loose a sigh and tried to ignore some of the more pointed stares. _Just a stepping stone_ , she reminded herself. _Most of the people in this room were probably in your spot not that long ago._

A few more journalists filtered in before a rather prim and proper-looking woman in her forties stepped out and announced the stars of this particular press conference. A few men in business suits came out from a back door just to the left of the table set up. At this point, cameras began to flash in quick succession and the journalists surrounding Rukia got out whatever recorder or notes they were going to use to get their information. She too got ready, though her set up was worlds different than the elite writers in the room. All she had was an old, barely functioning tape recorder and her trusted notepad and pen. It wasn't much, but then again, she wasn't expecting any kind of hard-hitting news to surface.

Suddenly the camera flashes became more frequent as a recognizable figure emerged from the door. A rather tall man, with jet-black hair that had an almost deep blue tint to it and wire-rimmed glasses came walking out with his head held high. He looked to be annoyed before the press conference even began. Everyone immediately knew why.

Uryuu Ishida was one of Japan's leading movie directors. In the past few years, he had spit out hit after hit. In Rukia's opinion, his movies were nothing more than the usual cheesy and cliche chick flicks, but they made him an unimaginably large amount of money and she could understand that. After the director, came a beautiful young woman with long, auburn hair and a beaming smile. At first Rukia wondered if she was the new movie's leading lady (she was certainly pretty enough for the part), though she didn't remember Urahara telling her about any of the other actors or actresses being in attendance, but then she heard some of the reporters sitting closest to her whispering about the woman being Uryuu Ishida's personal assistant.

Though new in the tabloid part of the journalism industry, Rukia could still recognize a juicy scoop when it was presented to her, so the whispers about this 'Orihime Inoue' woman being more lover than personal assistant to the prolific director were jotted down on her notepad and filed away for future reference.

A few more movie staffers exited into the room chock full of journalists before the real star appeared. The sound of cameras flashing and reporters already trying to grab a comment or two filled the room as Ichigo Kurosaki finally made his appearance. Rukia had to hold herself back from laughing at his expression. He looked just about ready to murder anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. They weren't kidding when they said he didn't much care for the media. Rukia had to wonder if he was late because of the traffic or because someone had to literally drag him here.

The well put together woman from before just managed to quiet down all the reporters, who clearly weren't going to get anything out of Ichigo Kurosaki without a fight, before each of the movie officials said a small statement. Uryuu Ishida proved to be the most eloquently spoken out of all of them, to no one's surprise. He didn't get tons of backers funding his movies without some kind of charm. Finally, the statements came to a close and it was time to open the floor for questions. Despite the fact that he hadn't spoken up until this point, everyone in the room knew Ichigo Kurosaki couldn't stay quiet anymore. Rukia readied her notebook and made sure her tape recorder was at least trying to function. This was what she was here for after all.

As soon as the go ahead was given to the reporters, the room erupted into a barrage of questions. Rukia was honestly rather surprised at how quickly almost everyone in the room found something to say. She knew that if she had been on the receiving end of all of that, she'd have crumbled. Ichigo Kurosaki, on the other hand, weathered it with a straight face like a pro.

Eventually one of the more forward reporters was able to make his question heard above the others. "Mr. Kurosaki! Can you tell us about your experience on set so far?"

Finally, the orange-haired movie star spoke. "The experience has been great. My director and all the producers have us working efficiently. I think it will turn out to be a good movie," was his simple and rather bland answer. Rukia couldn't help but lift an eyebrow at that. Still, she jotted it down.

Another reporter, this time a woman with long brunette hair, got her question in next. "Can you tell us what's it's like working with your co-star, Rangiku Matsumoto?"

"Rangiku is great. She's an excellent actress and we've worked well together so far." Another boring answer. Rukia just knew all the journalists in the room were trying to get something more out of him, but he wasn't biting.

"Is there anything going on off screen with Ms. Matsumoto?" another asked.

Ichigo deadpanned. "No," was all he said and Rukia's eyebrows rose even higher.

"Mr. Kurosaki! Can you tell us about your altercation with the photographer last month? Have any charges been filed?"

"That question isn't relevant to what we're here for," he said, and Rukia could tell he was getting angrier and angrier with each successive question.

The journalists continued like this for the next twenty minutes. Some asked questions about the movie and the experience filming it, others asked about future projects, and still some tried to get out more personal info from the movie star, but as was evidenced by the answers to the earlier questions, Ichigo Kurosaki was giving them nothing. Rukia sighed at that. There was no point in her being here. Urahara didn't care about future movies or what it was like working with the director. He wanted dirt and no one was getting anything today.

Still, as the press conference started to wrap up and the last few questions were being asked, Rukia felt as though she should say something. Clearly he wasn't going to answer any kind of question about his personal life, but everything else was generic garbage that every celebrity would say in the same situation. If these people were all professional writers, shouldn't they want something interesting for their stories? Shouldn't they ask him more meaningful questions? If that were Rukia up on that platform, she knew she would appreciate a question about _why_ she was doing the movie. What was motivating her? What kind of legacy did she want her acting skills to leave on the entertainment industry?

"We have time for one more question, if anyone has anything," the woman running the press conference said, and surprisingly enough it looked as though most people either had given up on getting more information or felt they had enough to put in a story for their editors. Rukia knew this would be her only chance. She had no courage to try and speak up earlier because she knew everyone would look down upon her if she did, but there was just something about the way Ichigo Kurosaki spoke that got to her. He looked exhausted and uninterested. He was the star of a movie for Christ's sake and he didn't even seem excited about it! As someone who had to fight tooth and nail to get what she really wanted, that didn't sit well with Rukia.

Just as it looked as though no one was going to say anything, Rukia took a deep breath and raised her hand. "I have a question," she declared, immediately regretting her choice of words. Almost instantly, everyone's eyes were on her, including the deep, molten amber of one Ichigo Kurosaki.

Ignoring everyone's condescending stare, she locked eyes with the frayed movie star. She had to stop herself from getting lost within the depths of his beautifully colored eyes. She couldn't let his looks get the best of her, she had a job to do. And, at this point, it was less of a job as a reporter and more of a job as a human being.

"What kind of impact do you want this movie and the rest of your movies going forward to leave on your fans?" was her question. Her voice wasn't as steady as she wanted it to be but she at least congratulated herself for getting it all out. As a young journalist with a job that made everyone in the room scoff in disgust, the atmosphere before her was intimidating, to say the least.

Ichigo Kurosaki's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, at her question, though she still caught it. He tried to reign in his surprise but she could tell she took him off guard. That fact alone irked her. Had no one ever thought to ask this man anything of substance?

Ichigo leaned toward his mic and spoke. "Can you repeat the question?" Rukia wondered if she was unclear, as reporters surrounding her began to chuckle. She felt like an idiot as she looked around at them, but she started this and she was going to finish it.

"Well, you do these same kinds of movies over and over again. You gain tons of fans and recognition and fame, but have you ever thought about why? What is it you want to gain by starring in a movie? How do you want to impact the entertainment industry?"

As Rukia continued refining her question, Ichigo Kurosaki's eyes grew more and more until eventually he looked dumbfounded. And then, much to _her_ surprise, he did something she hadn't thought him even capable of when he first walked into the room.

He smiled.

It wasn't much of a smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. And then, he began talking. "Well, I'll admit I've never been asked something like that." Though she didn't let it show, that statement alone made Rukia feel happy. She might not have gotten the dirt and she may very well be fired as soon as she gets back to Urahara, but at least she did something no other reporter had done before. "Just like everyone else in the industry wants, I'd like to have a positive impact, of course. My movies may not be on every single Oscar ballot, but they make people happy and that's all that matters. I want someone who's getting over a breakup or something to watch one of my movies and believe that that can happen to them, despite everything. I want people to think that they can find happiness and love and all that sappy shit whenever they think about me and my acting. That's the kind of impact I'd like to have."

At his words, Rukia couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her face as well. As the press conference was called to a close and the ones sitting at the long table began to make their exit, security guards in tow, Rukia kept her eyes glued on Ichigo Kurosaki's as he was still fixated on her, right up until he turned to leave through the back door he had entered through.

Rukia shook her head in disbelief at that rather strange turn of events. Some of the others around her started whispering and giving her confused looks as she got up and gathered her stuff to leave, but she ignored them.

Maybe this job wasn't as awful as she had originally thought it would be. Interactions like that were exactly why she wanted to be a journalist in the first place. She wanted people to be open and honest with her. She wanted to write about why people did what they did. Humans were awesome, for the most part, and that's really all Rukia ever wanted to write about.

Of course, working for a tabloid newspaper certainly called that belief into question more often than not, but nevertheless she continued to hold to it. Maybe, just maybe, someone would stop and appreciate her outlook on life somewhere down the road.

Though she had a _teeny tiny_ feeling that that wouldn't happen when she showed up at her boss's office empty-handed the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

An insistent buzzing sound coming from the nightstand abruptly woke the young, orange-haired man. The light was practically blinding as it streamed through the window of his bedroom. Ichigo Kurosaki squinted at the intrusion and rubbed his eyes wearily before taking a peek at his annoyingly persistent cell phone.

Ten missed calls, all from his assistant. That could only mean one thing. What time was it? Ichigo swiped away the missed calls notification to find that it was already 4:30 in the afternoon. That's what he got for staying up until the wee hours of the morning going over lines. Now he was going to be late for his press conference and his PA was going to _kill_ him.

The phone went off again, notifying him of yet another call from his no doubt furious assistant. He sighed and pressed the button to answer. No point in avoiding her now. Might as well take the storm and roll with it.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

Immediately he was met by the shrill voice of Nanao Ise, his long time personal assistant, who acted like she ran his entire life. Though, if he was honest with himself, she probably did. "Where the hell are you?!" she screamed and Ichigo had to pull the phone away from his ear so as to keep himself from going deaf. "The car has been waiting outside your building to take you to the press conference for thirty minutes! It's supposed to start at 5 and we're half way across the city during rush hour! Now I have to call everyone there and tell them they have to wait for you."

Ichigo slowly got up from his bed while Nanao continued lecturing him on his laziness and lack of consideration for others. He put the phone on speaker while she went off and began to dress. He'd been dreading this dumb press conference for the past few days and now that he slept past his alarms, it was just going to be worse.

Leave it to Uryuu to single him out for media coverage, just because he was that much of a prick. He _knew_ how much Ichigo hated dealing with the press but he also knew how much the press adored him and how any coverage was good coverage when it came to his newest movie. He was fully prepared to give the director, who doubled as one of Ichigo's few friend-like companions, hell when he saw him.

Of course, he actually had to _get_ there first, a task he had already proven to be incapable of given the time. Oh well, most of the media in attendance were only there to see him so he was quite positive they would wait as he fought the rush hour traffic to get there.

Ichigo finished with his clothes, choosing a more casual-looking suit (foregoing the tie as per his usual choice) before he looked at his hair in the mirror, ran his hands through it a few times only to see it remain as disheveled as it was before, and decide that most people liked it a bit scruffy anyway so he might as well just go with it. He picked up his phone, from which Nanao was still lecturing him, turned it off speaker and made an attempt to interrupt the woman's rambling complaints.

"Alright, Nanao, I'm on my way down to the car," he said before he exited his lavish apartment and locked the door behind him, his phone held between his ear and shoulder.

"You better not look like you just woke up. Can't have people thinking you're a womanizer _and_ a slob," Nanoe commented, her voice filled with disdain.

"Don't worry about it. Everyone there will be more concerned with my personal life than my appearance any way," Ichigo said with venom. Great, he was already in a bad mood and he'd only woken up five minutes ago.

"If you say so," Nanao replied sarcastically. A few moments later Ichigo was at the ground floor of his uptown apartment building where he spotted the angry woman in question with her phone to her ear. After spotting her 'boss' she came over quickly.

"Come on, we already have the security detail in place and your driver is ready to go. If we hurry, we might be able to make it there only a half hour or so behind schedule, which isn't great but it's better than nothing" she said, grabbing his arm (with a little more force than necessary) and leading him through the lobby. Ichigo could already see a couple paparazzi photographers gathered outside ready to pounce. _Great,_ he thought bitterly, _just what I needed._

Ichigo weathered the paparazzi outside his apartment with practiced ease. After his run-in with a rather nasty photographer the month before he knew better than to confront any of them, however obscene they might act. Nanao had drilled that point into his head with particular force and he didn't want another one of her lectures, especially considering he was due for a big one after sleeping in.

The ride to the building where the press conference would be held dragged on for a while. Downtown Tokyo traffic was no joke and Ichigo was thankful he wasn't the one actually driving in it. At least he could keep himself occupied in the hectic stop-and-go mess.

It might've taken forever in actuality, but to Ichigo their arrival came far too fast. He just needed to get through the next hour or so. He was a professional after all. He knew which questions to answer in the usual offhanded, superficial way of most celebrities and which he should completely brush off. Anything that had to do with his personal life and experiences was immediately off-limits. He didn't want the media to know everything, despite their best efforts to dig into his life. There were some things he was prepared to fight with every bit of strength left in his body to keep secret, whether the media liked it or not.

Ichigo was quickly ushered through the press stationed outside the building by his bodyguards, then through a few hallways, and finally into the prep room where his producers and other movie executives were along with Uryuu, all of whom looked rather upset to be kept waiting.

"Christ, finally," was Uryuu's comment when he finally made his appearance. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Have you seen the traffic outside? Maybe next time you hold a press conference, don't have it in the middle of the goddamn city during rush hour," Ichigo said in anger. He was far too annoyed to deal with Uryuu's usual snark.

"You say that, but we _all_ managed to make it here on time."

"Fine, I'm sorry. Let's just get this over with," Ichigo said with a glare, effectively ending the argument. He wasn't mentally prepared to put up with any of this.

 _Just think about the post-premier vacation to Tahiti,_ Ichigo reminded himself to try and calm down. _Beaches, drinks, and pretty girls in bikinis. Every man's dream._

As Ichigo was led to the door that opened into the room the conference would be held in and waited to be introduced, he began to wonder if dream beach vacations were really worth all this other stress. All he ever wanted was to become famous doing something he loved, but lately it felt as though he had made a horrible decision. He was starting to wonder if the fame was worth the intense scrutiny of every part of his life.

Again, quicker than Ichigo would have liked, he was announced. He entered to a room full of reporters and photographers already running their mouths, speaking over one another to try and be heard. The perpetual flashing of the cameras gave Ichigo a headache, he'd never get used to the bright lights constantly in his face. Still, despite the overwhelming atmosphere, Ichigo weathered it like he usually did and managed to make it seem like he didn't hate everything about what he was doing.

He sat down in his appropriate seat and tried to keep a neutral face as the movie was introduced, and the producers and director had their chance to speak. Eventually, once all the usual stuffy business was out of the way the media turned toward him, and the floor was opened for questions. Like a tidal wave approaching a small town, the questions practically drowned the orange-haired movie star. And, just like he was taught (or conditioned), he waited until someone was able to raise their voice above the others.

They started out alright, with a few reporters asking him things about the movie and his experiences filming it. He understood the need to gather enough material to write a story and keep their jobs, but he wondered why the media always insisted on asking the same superficial questions. Really, it was rather pointless since, in retaliation, he only ever gave the same superficial answers.

What was filming the movie like? How is the director? ( _An, asshole,_ Ichigo thought to himself) How is his costar, Matsumoto? ( _Oh, boy, here we go again._ ) Is there anything going on behind the scenes with her? ( _That thought makes me want to vomit._ ) What about the altercation with the photographer last month? ( _If I had my way, that piece of shit would be fired and banned from ever photographing a human being ever again, but no, I'm the bad guy.)_

This string of questioning continued on for twenty minutes, but to Ichigo it felt like hours. _Tahitit, Tahiti, Tahiti_ , he kept reminding himself, the repetitive mantra only offering some relief from the onslaught.

Finally, it looked as though the reporters were at least semi-satisfied, for now. The questioning died down and the woman moderating the press conference asked if anyone had any last questions to ask him.

And, just when he thought he'd actually make it out alive, a feminine voice was heard over the sounds of reporters taking last minute notes and gathering their things to leave.

' _Oh dear god, what now?'_ was his first thought as he scanned the crowd for the woman who matched the voice he heard. Eventually, his eyes landed on a raised hand, which he followed to find a twin pair of violet eyes latched onto his own. She was a small thing, with her dark black hair pulled into a messy ponytail and her face contorted in what looked to be pure terror, for some reason, as she cleared her throat and began to speak.

"What kind of impact do you want this movie and the rest of your movies going forward to leave on your fans?"

It took a minute for the words to register in his already extremely frayed brain.

Wait, what?

"Can you repeat the question?" he asked, her words so startling to him that he wondered if he'd heard her right, though he didn't know how he could've mistaken anything. She was the only one talking in the room, all eyes seeming to penetrate through her very soul. Ichigo knew why. Poor woman looked to be young, very young. Probably only a few years younger than himself. So she was most likely new in the industry and every reporter looked at her like she was either a completely different creature or she was the bane of their entire existence.

"Well, you do these same kinds of movies over and over again. You gain tons of fans and recognition and fame, but have you ever thought about why? What is it you want to gain by starring in a movie? How do you want to impact the entertainment industry?"

Huh, that sure came out of left field. It was probably the last thing he expected to come out of this tiny woman's mouth when she opened it. Here he'd been expecting another typical superficial fluff question that had no bearing on anything, but she had actually asked him something...meaningful.

He felt kind of bad for her though. That question truly proved how green she was in the business. Normal reporters didn't ask rom-com male leads anything about what kind of impact or meaning they wanted to get from their career. Everyone else in the room was either staring daggers at her for wasting their time or was trying to stifle their laughter at her question.

He didn't think it was a dumb question though. In fact, it was probably the best thing anyone from the media had ever asked him since he had become famous. The fact that he could actually say something from the heart rather than one of his many heavily rehearsed lines that he practically pulled out of his back pocket was exciting, to say the least.

Not being able to hold back how relieved he was at what she had asked him, he gave her something he never gave to members of the media: a smile.

It was as muted as can be, but nonetheless still a smile.

"Well, I'll admit I've never been asked something like that," he began, which was absolutely a true statement. He had to pause and try and think up an answer that had substance because he felt as though that was what the question deserved.

As he went on about wanting his movies to positively impact his fans and give them hope in the midst of heartbreak, his eyes were locked onto the purple orbs belonging to the young and frazzled reporter. He never cared much for the media, but the courage it took to ask him something like that in a room full of people that outranked her in every way deserved his utmost attention and focus.

He was pleased, when he got to the end of his statement, to see her smiling back at him. He certainly wasn't expecting to have anything close to a _positive_ experience to end this particular media appointment, but he was immensely thankful for the jumpstart to his day. He was grateful for the opportunities he had, and he did want to make an impact in people's lives, even if that was just by starring in cheesy rom-com flicks.

When the moderator announced the end of the press conference and all the other people surrounding him got up to leave, he followed suit slowly, still not being able to take his eyes off the tiny reporter. There wasn't anything particularly fascinating about her (though her eyes were what half the women he worked with would kill for), but he still found himself unable to look away. He hoped he at least spoke his thanks through his gaze, and he figured she got the message, given how pleased she looked as she too could not look away from him.

Once he was finally back in the prep room, getting ready to go back to his home, he shook off the experience. No point in dwelling on a reporter, especially once he remembered the lecture his assistant would give him, the mountain of lines he had to memorize for his newest movie, and the call with his lawyer scheduled for the following day to talk about the charges the photographer brought against him.

Still, he was thankful for that tiny moment, whatever it was, for lifting his spirits even for a brief moment. But now it was back to reality. Tomorrow he'd forget all about the reporter with the beautiful violet eyes and continue on with his life.

It's not like he'd ever see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Rukia sat in the old, very uncomfortable chair feeling the sweat start to bead on her forehead as her hands fumbled and twisted while she endured the anxiety-inducing silence. Her boss was currently reading her notes from the press conference on the other side of his desk, his face curiously emotionless as his eyes scanned down the paper she'd given him.

 _God this is unbearable,_ she thought to herself. She wished Urahara would at least say something or give her any kind of indication that he either hated or begrudgingly accepted what she'd given him. This meeting to discuss the Ichigo Kurosaki press conference was a make-or-break moment for her job and she just hated the thought of going back to a ramen noodle diet and having to walk everywhere because she couldn't afford gas while she was unemployed.

Finally, blessedly, Urahara's eyes rose from her notes and met her own. All she could do under his intense scrutiny was smile sheepishly and hope he'd take pity on her poor soul. Eventually, once his cryptic silence grew to be far too much to bear, she spoke up.

"W-well, at least you can't say I didn't try," she offered, knowing it was as lame as it sounded.

At this, Urahara heaved a big sigh and set her notes down with a plop on his desk. "What am I going to do with you, Kuchiki?" was all he said, more to himself than anything else.

"What, I went like you asked me to. I copied down most of what was said like you asked me to. I even asked a question even though everyone there thought I was a pathetic lunatic!" she pleaded, trying her best to prove she wasn't a total failure. She knew that wasn't good enough for Kisuke Urahara's infamous tabloid though.

"Kuchiki," he began in a tone that made it seem like he was talking to a child, "there is nothing here I can publish. All the other entertainment rags are going to say the exact same thing, I can't make a headline from this," he admonished. Rukia sunk back into her chair a little at his words.

"Well, I don't really know what you expected of me. Almost everyone there tried to get some dirt too, but he wasn't buying. If I had asked, he would have ignored me like he ignored everyone else."

"But he didn't ignore you," was all Urahara said, causing Rukia to look at him strangely.

"What do you mean?"

"He answered your question, and rather elegantly. Clearly, you caused him to stop and think. Who's to say he wouldn't have been in a good enough mood to answer another question."

Rukia was speechless at that. She had been so pleased with herself after her question went over so well with the handsome celebrity that she hadn't even thought of doing more poking around. Although, if she was honest with herself, she'd know she really had no intention of ever butting in on Ichigo Kurosaki's private business. She respected him enough, believe it or not, to let any inclination to ask a personal question slide.

But like hell was she going to tell her boss any of that. She had a job, as hated as it was, to try and salvage.

"Kuchiki, I realize that you'd much rather be writing for the _Tokyo Times_ than my humble little tabloid newspaper, but that doesn't mean you still don't earn a paycheck here. You are, for the time being, a tabloid reporter. That means you do whatever it takes, you step over whatever social boundary or etiquette exists, to get the scoop. The old bitties that pay a miniscule amount of yen to read my newspaper don't care what emotional impact drives Kurosaki's acting career. They want to know what co-star he's fucking and what trouble he's getting himself into on his lavish beach vacations. Do you understand?"

Rukia bottled up all the nasty things she wanted to say and nodded her head. "Yes."

"Now, in any normal situation I'd fire you for once again failing at what I pay you to do," Urahara started and a blinding beacon of hope appeared in Rukia's brain. Was he going to give her another chance? Surely, she wouldn't be that lucky.

"However, the situation you described to me from the press conference has me...thinking," Uraraha said with a sly smirk. Rukia had been here long enough to know that was never a good thing. What could he possibly want from her now?

"While you may have forgotten you were a tabloid reporter for a minute, your decision to actually ask Kurosaki of substance might work in our favor."

"What do you mean by that?" Rukia asked warily.

Instead of answering her, Urahara smirked and reached down into one of the side drawers on his desk, pulled out a gray piece of plastic that looked like a blank credit card, and tossed it over to her side. Rukia looked up at her boss in confusion.

"What is this?" she asked as she took the liberty to pick it up and turn it over in her hands, observing it from all sides.

"It's a key card...to the parking garage of Ichigo Kurosaki's uptown apartment building," Urahara answered practically gleefully. He loved having the upper hand in conversations like this.

Rukia's eyes widened at his answer as she looked back at the gray card. "Y-you're joking...right?"

"Why I would I joke about something like that. You should know I'm _always_ serious."

Rukia had to use every minute particle of strength in her body not to roll her eyes dramatically at that blatant lie.

"How did you get this?" she asked instead, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice.

"A very, _very_ dear friend of mine happens to own a nice little nail salon on the ground floor of the building that just so happens to share the same garage as the residents. She only lives a few blocks away so she doesn't drive to work and gave the card to me for...a situation like this," Urahara said in satisfaction as he leaned back in his chair, crossed his fingers like a 1920s mobster, and tried, but failed, to contain the childish grin from spreading across his face.

Rukia sighed. Even though she already knew the answer she still asked, "What the hell do you want me to do with this?"

Urahara's grin grew wider at her question. "What I want, my dear Rukia," he began, his voice already grating on her frayed nerves. _If you don't do what he wants you don't have a job,_ Rukia reminded herself. _You'll be writing for the_ Times _one day, this is just a stepping stone._ Urahara continued during her internal peptalk "...is for you to stake out at Ichigo Kurosaki's apartment building and wait for him to either leave or come home. According to my intel, Kurosaki likes to go for long drives in the evenings when he doesn't have anything else scheduled, and that happens to be the case tomorrow. When he goes to his car, you run over and remind him of the curious and cute reporter from the press conference and ask him if he'll answer some more questions...just for you," Urahara instructed, Rukia's anger rising at his words. He was such a prick, using one little moment she had with a celebrity against the both of them to get what he wanted. Still, he was a genius, in his own right.

"Intel?" Rukia questioned in a mocking tone, knowing she was safe for now because Urahara knew she wouldn't refuse. "You're a tabloid journalist, not a police detective," she said sarcastically.

"They're pretty much the same thing, sweetheart. Get to Kurosaki's place around 4 or 5 in the evening and wait. If you come back with something, your job will be secure as long as you want it to be. If not, we part ways. Deal?"

Rukia turned over the grey keycard in her hands and cursed her bad luck at ending up at this place as a starter job. She knew she couldn't refuse, but oh what she would give if she could. She'd annoy poor Ichigo Kurosaki, he'd immediately lose whatever good opinion he'd had of her, and then she'd continue to be a lowlife tabloid journalist probably until the day she died, knowing her luck.

"Deal."

* * *

"God it's _fucking_ cold," Rukia exclaimed to her empty car for probably the hundredth time in the last two hours. One thing Urahara failed to mention when he presented the option of the stakeout to her was that the parking garage would be insanely cold in the middle of winter and she'd have no way of warming up given that the heater in her car was broken.

For probably the thousandth time that day, she cursed her boss for his conniving ideas that always put her in situations like this, where no matter what she would get the short end of the stick and he'd come out victorious. She wanted to be anywhere but here, creepily hiding out in run down car in a parking garage of a ridiculously expensive apartment building waiting for a celebrity just so she could ask him who he's been sleeping with lately.

Why, why, _why_ did she have to want to become a journalist. She could've done what her brother wanted and become a businesswoman at his company or at the very least something with some kind of prestige. She might not have been happy, but at least she'd still have her brother's wealth to get her through any kind of graduate school and then she'd have a good guaranteed career waiting for her at Byakuya's company.

But no, she had to be drawn to a field like journalism, where her starting career put her in a situation where she was freezing to death in a random parking garage. Maybe Byakuya had been right when they'd had that argument about her future years ago and he ended up cutting her off. The only reason he'd done it was to prove to her she couldn't just do whatever she wanted without his help. Rukia, being the way she was, obstinately declared she didn't need her brother or his money to achieve her dreams, which of course had promptly made her broke.

She could take the constant frozen meals, and she didn't really mind the occasional cockroach murder or leaky ceiling at her run-down apartment. If it meant she was doing what she loved, she'd deal with the less than ideal circumstances because one day it'd pay off. But right now, she wasn't doing what she loved. She was mildly stalking a celebrity in the bitter cold just to save herself from losing a job she despised. If this was how it was going to be for years until she, by some miracle, got a more respectable job, she wondered if it'd even be worth it.

The real question was whether or not her ego could handle going back to Byakuya and admitting he was right. That would take a good amount of courage she wasn't sure she possessed yet.

As she became consumed with these life-altering thoughts about her future and what she even wanted to do with herself, she almost didn't notice a car come rolling into the garage, parking, and a man with orange hair wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black hoodie stepping out and walking toward the elevator. The car was a ridiculously expensive black Jaguar and was exactly like Urahara had described. It was go time.

Immediately she was brought out of her thoughts and her body went into action. She had to take one last deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to do, but she knew she had to act fast before Ichigo Kurosaki left. She quickly grabbed her notepad and recorder, turned it on, and exited her car in a flourish.

She walked with fast-paced steps, knowing that if she ran toward him he'd immediately be suspicious but also knowing she had to catch him. Just as he was about to head to the elevator waiting for him, she called out across the empty parking garage in an attempt to stop him.

"Mr. Kurosaki!" she shouted in a breathless voice. At the sound of his name being called, the orange-haired movie star stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at her in response.

She wondered whether or not he'd even recognize her from the press conference and if that meant he'd give her some of his time. It had only been two days since then and he had seemed so _fixated_ on her as he left that she hoped that would work in her favor.

And, it seemed it had, as his eyes widened in recognition and he waited for her to run up to where he stood motionless.

"H-hi," she said, out of breath from having jogged/power-walked across the entire garage to get to him in time. "I don't know if you remember me or not, but I'm-,"

"You're the reporter from the press conference. The one that asked that weird question," he said, his face softening just a tad. For that Rukia was grateful, especially because he was about two seconds from hating her guts again.

 _Although_ , Rukia began to think, _I don't think 'weird' is a fare descriptor_ -...she quickly shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. She had a mission that she was 99.9% sure she would fail at so she might as well get the humiliation and rejection over with so she could go home and start looking for new jobs.

"Um, yeah. My name's Rukia Kuchiki," she said before she stuck her hand out forcefully.

He eyed her strangely at this and she wanted to punch herself in the face for acting so proper. Reporters didn't shake hands and introduce themselves to the celebrities they were going to get dirt on. They shoved taperecorders in their face, spoke above any objections, and got to work.

"Um, okay," was Kurosaki's response as he awkwardly shook her proffered hand, not bothering to give his own name because _of course_ everyone already knew it.

"I-I was just wondering if...um...you wouldn't mind…answering some more...questions," Rukia finally managed to get out, struggling with speaking each word. God, this was awkward. Curse stupid Kisuke Urahara and this stupid job for making her do this.

"Oh, uh, okay. I guess so. Though the parking garage is kind of a weird location for an interview, don't you think?" he said, clearly not sure what to make of her sudden appearance but certainly giving her more attention than he would to anyone else. Urahara was a jerk, but he was a smart jerk. Of course, it wouldn't matter in the end. Once Rukia finally asked him about his personal life, Ichigo Kurosaki would be gone.

"W-well, um, I'm not really...interviewing you, per se. I just want to ask a couple quick questions."

This response immediately had Kurosaki suspicious, she could tell. Their interaction at the press conference had allowed her to have more trust than any other random reporter showing up in his parking garage would have, but she knew he was still going to be quickly on the defensive. Every bit of information the media had gotten about him had come without consent, so he wouldn't go down without a fight. Rukia's only strategy was to play to his emotions.

"What kind of questions?" Kurosaki asked gruffly. Rukia tried her best to ignore his slightly aggressive response.

"Well, you see, I actually work for _Tokyo Digest_ and-," immediately Rukia was cut off by Kurosaki scoffing.

"You've got to be kidding me. That tabloid rag? _That's_ who you work for?" he asked, immediately defensive and angry. This was going south fast. "And here I thought you were an _actual_ journalist."

Rukia tried not to let it show how much that comment stung and continued. "I know it's not the greatest thing, but I'm just trying to get myself in the industry and this job was all I could find."

"How the hell did you even get in here?" Ichigo Kurosaki asked, starting to step further away from her and looking around for a solution. Eventually, his eyes fell on the gate that led into the parking garage. Turns out Urahara's 'intel' hadn't even mattered because the parking garage gate was malfunctioning and had been wide open for the past few hours. Rukia was honestly surprised more loiterers hadn't made their way into the garage given the fact that she knew Ichigo Kurosaki wasn't the only notable celebrity living in this building. And, even if he was, he was a hot enough commodity to draw plenty of nosy reporters.

"Look," Rukia began, trying to diffuse the situation as best she could. "I don't want to be here in this fucking cold waiting for you to come back to your house to ask you a question, but my boss gave me an ultimatum and if I don't get something from you he's going to fire me and then I'm never going to be a real journalist! Can't you just make something up that doesn't make you seem like too bad of a person but keeps the tabloids satisfied?" Rukia pleaded, going straight for the heart.

Ichigo Kurosaki backed further away. "I don't want to hear your sobstory. You're trespassing on private property. The only bone I'm giving you is not calling the cops, okay? Now go back and tell your boss and every other lowlife tabloid reporter to leave me the hell alone, got it?" he said angrily before he turned and headed for the elevator. Though, after thinking twice about it, he ducked into the stairwell so she wouldn't go after him, and was gone without another word.

Rukia stood still in her spot a few minutes after watching Kurosaki leave. _Well_ , she thought to herself, _that went about as well as I thought it would._ She sighed when she thought about her failure. Somewhere, deep down inside of her, she really thought she'd get him to at least take some kind of pity on her. But, it turns out, despite their little moment at the press conference, Ichigo Kurosaki was just like any other celebrity. Fiercely privately and incredibly hostile to any member of the media.

Rukia walked back to her junk car that stood out amidst all the Mercedez's and BMW's that littered the upscale building's parking garage in defeat. Why had she even come here? She knew she wouldn't succeed and now whatever good opinion this random male celebrity had of her was completely gone.

 _Back to the job listings_ , she thought pitifully as she willed herself not to cry. Maybe going back to Byakuya with a bruised ego wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

Ichigo angrily marched up the staircase to his penthouse apartment. He didn't care that he was having to trudge up almost 20 flights of stairs, he was far too angry to get tired.

_The nerve of that woman, coming to my house to ask me stupid questions! Just when I thought there was hope for the media._

He was so goddamn _sick_ of reporters poking into his life. Waiting hours outside his apartment building, ambushing him in the streets, and now apparently staking out in his parking garage. It was becoming ridiculous! What good was it to borderline attack him for one measly story? He was just an actor. It didn't matter who he was dating or if he was getting arrested or something. He was just another person!

That was the problem with his career path, though. He would never be just another person to anyone in the media or really any of his fans either. He was _the_ Ichigo Kurosaki. His entire existence was interesting to half the country apparently, and it would be like that for much of the foreseeable future. Just his luck.

Still, after all the reporters and photographers he had fought off in his time as a celebrity, this one annoyed him the most. That random reporter woman with the admittedly mesmerizing eyes had really made him stop and think. She had asked him something no one else had even thought to ask.

And now, here she was, revealing herself to be just as low and disgusting as the rest of them. Using her one good experience with him to her advantage. He wondered if she'd planned it this way. She asked him something meaningful to get him to remember her and then tried to see if he'd take pity on her with some sob story about losing her job. He had no pity though. If she was going to appeal to his emotions by complaining about a tabloid job, than she shouldn't be in this ridiculous industry to begin with.

And, it seemed the whole world was against him today, when he got all the way to the stop of the stairwell only to realize he had left his wallet in his car and had to trek all the way back down to the parking garage to retrieve it. God, nothing was going right today. First, his lawyer informed him that that stupid paparazzi photographer was pressing ridiculous charges against him and would probably succeed in getting some amount of money from him, then the nice reporter from the press conference turned out to be just like any other media scum, and now he had to go back and face her because he forgot his stupid wallet. He hoped, at least for her sake, that she was long gone by the time he got back down there. He didn't want to have to see her face again, everything about it made him angry where he was once curious and thoughtful.

All he'd wanted to do was go out for a long drive in his nice car to clear his head. It was one of his favorite things to do after a hard day when he had some rare free time. Now, that tiny reporter had to go and ruin all the good feelings he had come home with. He cursed her for screwing up his night.

When he got to the parking garage floor his car was located on and opened the door of the stairwell, he prayed to whatever god that would listen that she'd be gone. He hoped she had given up, gotten back in her car, and left. He'd get his wallet in peace, make a note to call maintenance and inform them about how much of a security breach it was to have a broken garage gate, and then unwind with some whiskey. Yes, that was sounding like a good plan.

And, when he opened the door and walked out into a seemingly empty garage, he thought he had avoided her after all and let out a sigh of relief. He went back to his black Jaguar, got his wallet, and let out a long breath as he walked back to the elevator (he would actually take it this time) and thanked the gods for allowing him to avoid contact this time around.

Of course, things were never that simple.

Ichigo realized this with startling clarity when, all of a sudden as he was waiting for the elevator to arrive, a startling and high-pitched screech of terror sounded throughout the parking garage. Not only was the scream one born of complete fear, but it sounded _awfully_ familiar.

Not giving any thought to anything else, Ichigo rushed to where he had heard the scream come from, knowing someone (he hoped it wasn't who he thought it was) needed help. The screech had come from a darker part of the garage that led directly to the very obscure and not well-lit back alley that eventually led back to the street. When he turned a corner and saw a masked man dragging a woman away, he realized just how serious the security breach of the broken door really was.

And, just his luck, it had to be _her._

Still, Ichigo was not a bad man. He was a man with a lot of anger, sure, but he was not going to let any woman, even a tabloid reporter, be taken away by a masked man sneaking into an upscale parking garage.

The reporter, this Rukia woman, was struggling as best she could against the man in a ski mask who had her in a chokehold and was dragging her to the exit. Convenient for the attacker to wear a mask, given the amount of security cameras present in the garage. Rather than shouting at him and trying to rush him, Ichigo knew he needed to play his cards right. He had no idea what kind of weapons this man had on him, as he couldn't see any kind of gun or knife but knew one could be hidden away. If he just up and shouted at them, the man could decide to get rid of the evidence of his crime right away, which ultimately would mean one less tabloid reporter in the world.

And, as annoying as they were, there was no way in hell Ichigo was going to let that happen, despite his notoriety.

The attacker was dragging Rukia to the back entrance so Ichigo snuck around to another corner of the garage, hoping to catch him from behind. It was a miracle Rukia had even been able to let out the one scream for help as the masked attacker had a firm hand around her mouth, silencing her. Ichigo looked closely and could spy tears coming down her face, and a part of him twinged at the sight, despite everything. He didn't care what she had tried to pull on him, she was still a woman in a dangerous situation and he would _not_ stand idly by.

They continued to struggle to the exit as Ichigo snuck closer to where they were. He couldn't even believe this was actually happening. A woman getting attacked and dragged out of a building that was _supposed_ to have impeccable security was rare, and of course he had to be around for it too.

And, even though he had no idea who was watching or what people would say, as soon as the attacker got within arms reach, Ichigo prayed once again to the gods that his martial arts skills hadn't grown that rusty. He had to do something.

He rushed up behind the attacker, completely surprising him as he delivered a heavy blow to his head, knocking him to the side and allowing him to release the struggling Rukia from his grip. She fell to the ground in shock and the attacker whirled around to where Ichigo had his fist up to deliver another decisive blow to his face. He struggled with trying to contain the would-be criminal, but it seemed whoever this guy was, he was good at what he did. Somehow, whether it be because of his own skill or Ichigo being rather rusty, he escaped Ichigo's hold and ran as fast as he could out of the parking garage. Ichigo tried to go after him but knew it was no use. And, Rukia's soft cry from his side had him completely shifting his focus to her.

She was sprawled on the ground, breathing hard and clearly trying to come to terms with what almost happened to her. And really, what _did_ happen to her. She looked to be on the verge of panicking and, once again, despite his previous opinion of her, a part of Ichigo's heart tugged at the sight. He leaned down and reached out a hand, which immediately caught her attention.

She raised scared and confused eyes toward and he had to tell himself not to react to both the emotion and the incredible depth her violet orbs held. Damn, what was with this woman and her eyes? It was starting to freak him out how captivated he was by them.

He shook himself of that thought. She had just been attacked. He had to call the police and he had to calm her down.

As he waited for her to accept his hand and compose herself, he thought about what the hell had just happened. If he hadn't gone back to get his wallet, if he hadn't stopped and listened to her sob story about losing her job...he didn't even want to think about what might've happened.

Rukia continued to look up at him in surprise. He had just saved her from god knows what and she couldn't decide whether she was more grateful or shocked. She accepted his hand and he brought her to her feet, where she shakily stood. He mumbled something about getting her upstairs so he could call the police and they could deal with whatever happened and she just nodded along, too shell-shocked to process what just happened to her.

What they were both unaware of, however, was the unassuming paparazzi photographer who had been at the broken garage door, documenting everything that had just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Rukia stood completely still, feeling as though her body was frozen both in space and in time. Her brain was far too occupied with processing the events of the past twenty minutes to focus on moving her muscles. The only parts of her that were moving were her eyes, as they dashed around the lavish penthouse apartment, taking in the extravagance in disbelief as they desperately tried their best to avoid landing on a certain orange-haired celebrity who was currently on the phone with the police.

As she stood like a statue in the middle of Ichigo Kurosaki's living room, her brain was practically short-circuiting, with the only tangible thoughts running by on repeat being "Holy mother of god what the _fuck_ just happened" and "how the hell did I end up here?"

Once the initial fear of the situation faded as Ichigo silently brought her up to his home, the dread and shock started to settle in. How did the universe develop such an enormous grudge against her to not only have her car break down after she had just been practically inadvertently fired from her job via an admittedly attractive rom-com star, then have her attacked by some random psycho while she was cursing the world for her bad luck, and _then_ , as if that wasn't enough hell for one day, have said rom-com star come to her rescue like some strange orange-topped knight in shining armor? She could write a book about her misfortunes at this point. Maybe then she wouldn't be stuck groveling at Kisuke Urahara's feet anymore.

She shook her head and tried to focus her mind back on the situation at hand. Ichigo Kurosaki had just potentially saved her life from a psycho rapist attacker, she was in his stupidly overpriced penthouse apartment approximately fifteen minutes after he had just yelled at her to stay out of his life, and now he was phoning the police who she would have to be interviewed by and potentially be called in to identify suspects, etc, etc, etc.

This was all _far_ too much for her frayed self to handle. Hence, her current state of paralysis as she let Kurosaki lead the situation. From the bits of his phone conversation she could gather in her current state, it sounded as though someone from the police department had just been dispatched to come and talk to them. This was going to be a long night, Rukia could already tell. She hoped at the very least the police interview would go quickly. After everything that had happened, and everything that was going to happen as soon as she turned up at her boss's office the following day empty-handed, Rukia just wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ichigo Kurosaki (she would continue to use his full name in her head, it had always been strange to think of celebrities without doing so, she wondered why that had always been a thing... _focus, Rukia_ ) hung up the phone and awkwardly turned toward her. He didn't say anything for a moment or two and Rukia had to wonder why. _What the hell does he have to feel awkward about? He's always had the upper hand in every interaction we've had (all two of them), so why is he standing there fidgeting and looking less Hollywood hearthrob and more shy teenager? Wasn't he just yelling at me and accusing me of trespassing less than half an hour ago?_ God, everything about this was so strange, the severity of what actually happened was beginning to falter in Rukia's brain given the...unique set of circumstances.

"Uh, the police are on their way," was all he said, still avoiding eye contact.

 _Thanks, Sherlock, I figured as much,_ Rukia thought and desperately wanted to say. She didn't know why all of a sudden her fear and trepidation had been turned into...annoyance. Why was she even here? The guy who attacked her was wearing a mask and clearly experienced. No amount of police intervention was going to do her any good. She just wanted to forget what happened, forget this night, and _forget_ Ichigo Kurosaki.

"I was able to get my friend in the police department on the case. He's good at what he does. He'll help you out for sure," the starlet continued.

 _Okay, whoopdi-fucking-do_. Rukia tried to control the rising anger and frustration. It wasn't Ichigo Kurosaki's fault he had been dragged into this. If she hadn't had been trying to ambush him in his parking garage, none of this would've happened. Still, she had to find someone other than the obscure, god-like figure of fate to place blame on and it was easy to put it all on a random celebrity who, after tonight, she'd never have to see or talk to again. Who the hell cared if she got snippy with him? He'd go on being rich and famous and she'd go back to being unemployed. She figured she had every right to be annoyed at him right now.

More silence passed between them as they both awkwardly stood silently in his living room. The longer they stood without talking, the more frustration built up inside of the frayed tabloid journalist.

"Uh, d-do you want something to drink, or…," Ichigo Kurosaki trailed off and Rukia's pent up anger finally started to surface when she eyed him strangely at his question. Who the hell was this fidgety, stammering orange-haired fool standing before her? Because it sure as hell wasn't the media's hottest new commodity, the man women fainted over and men envied fiercely. This was not Hollywood's most alluring bachelor, this was the guy from homeroom who couldn't find enough courage to ask the popular girl out with a "check yes or no" note.

"No, I'm not thirsty," Rukia answered curtly, her patience wearing thin.

"Okay, then. Well, if you need anything...just...let me know," the movie star told her, _still_ not looking directly at her. Rukia had no idea why (probably just the day itself, in all its weirdness), but that fact, along with his half-hearted offer, was what finally pusher her over the edge.

"What are you doing?" she asked suddenly, not able to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice. Finally, at the sound of her strained tone, Ichigo Kurosaki's eyes met her in surprise. Like the first time he had looked upon her poor, plebeian self, she couldn't help herself from being amazed at the depth and meaning his amber orbs held. She figured that was probably why girls were always head over heels for him, despite his strangely colored hair and permanent scowl. That, and the fact he was rich and famous. She figured that helped too.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, rather taken aback at how hostile she seemed to be. Again, a small (very small) part of her felt bad for taking out her overall hatred toward the world on him, but, again, she reminded herself that Ichigo Kurosaki could take a word lashing or two. Then, she'd be gone from his life for good and they could both move on. For now, she was stuck in his apartment while they waited for the police to arrive so there was no one better for her to get angry at.

"This whole being nice to me bullshit," she began, finally moving her frozen body enough to cross her arms. "Asking me if I need anything, taking me up to your apartment, calling the police. Weren't you just telling me to leave you the hell alone?"

Rukia had to hold herself back from laughing at Ichigo Kurosaki's positively perplexed expression at that accusation. She wanted to remain serious because, due to her unfortunate size and stature, people didn't tend to believe she was truly angry unless she gave them the full force of her murderous look.

"What are you talking about? You were just attacked," he finally countered, as if that was an excuse.

"Yes, I realize that. And, as grateful as I am for you coming to my aide, I don't particularly need, nor want your help anymore. You can go back to hating my guts and I can go back to worrying about the job I'm going to lose tomorrow."

Rukia could only describe the celebrity's expression in that moment as...dumbfounded. His eyes were practically bugging out, his mouth was wide, and he couldn't seem to form a sentence. It was as if he couldn't even _comprehend_ the audacity she had to act annoyed and frustrated after he had just potentially saved her life. And while she would still say she was very grateful he was in the right place at the right time, that didn't mean she wanted to stick around. The night was traumatizing enough, she didn't need to pile more on by making polite conversation with the man who had yelled at her, potentially caused her to lose her job, and then acted like nothing happened.

"A-are you serious? I just saved your life," he countered, the anger and frustration practically permeating in the room finally starting to get to him as well.

"Yes, I really appreciate that, oh wondrous knight in shining armor, but instead of groveling at your feet like you're used to the rest of the world doing, I'd rather just go home, go to sleep, and try and put my life back together in the morning."

"Why the hell are you so angry? Weren't you just crying and helpless only a few minutes ago?" he started, letting his anger get the best of him, but Rukia was not going to let him get away with it. Especially after calling her _helpless._ Of all things, Rukia Kuchiki was _not_ helpless.

"Hey, listen, buddy. You don't get to decide how I react in this situation. I'm the victim here, got it? And the last thing I need right now is your pity." Her voice raised in volume and her finger pointed toward him in an accusatory manner.

The more she spoke, the more confused and angry Ichigo Kurosaki began to look. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to think of what could've _possibly_ set this strange woman off on him so suddenly, but before he could form an appropriate response, the intercom buzzed and the front desk receptionist informed the young movie star that a member of the nearby Tokyo Police Department precinct was here. He went over to go tell the woman to let them in and the apartment was thrust into silence yet again.

* * *

A million different thoughts were swirling around in Ichigo's head and they all had to do with a tiny and apparently malevolent tabloid reporter. She stood still, her arms crossed in an aggressive stance, her eyes attempting to find something other than himself to look at. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He figured any normal, law-abiding citizen would help out someone who had just been a victim of a crime, especially a woman, but apparently he had done something to horrendously offend her. He knew they weren't on the best of terms when he came to her rescue, but honestly did that even matter? Who cares about petty arguments when someone's in danger? He did what anyone else would do in the same situation.

So why was she was so mad? He knew nothing of her life or her situation, but it must have been bad for her to take out everything on him. He tried to hold himself back from getting annoyed in return, given that she was already in a fragile state of mind and he knew victims of violence all had their own way of dealing with their traumas, but... _honestly,_ why the hell was she getting all pissy at him, her rescuer?

Whatever, it didn't really matter. While she had managed to sneak back into his life after he thought he'd seen the last of her via a broken garage door, she was still right about one thing. After tonight, they never needed to see each other again. He shouldn't expect a hero's parade for doing something any normal human being with a conscience would do, so who cares if she got all mad at him, talked to the police, and then left. She was just a reporter.

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the police officers who had come to investigate and Ichigo went to go let them in. He was relieved to see a familiar face amongst the three or four men in uniform as they stepped inside the penthouse. His old high school buddy, Chad, was a detective in the police department and if anyone could handle a situation involving the crazy tabloid reporter woman, it was him.

Thanks to Chad's expertise Rukia was interviewed and reassured fairly quickly. She gave simple answers, still stewing over their little spat and clearly eager to get home. She didn't even sound all that enthusiastic about the reassurances from the police that they would catch the person who attacked her. It was like she just wanted to put the whole situation behind her. Whatever, it didn't matter to him. It was her trauma, he just got roped into it. She clearly didn't want anything to do with him and he was beginning to feel the same about her.

And, if he was honest with himself, it was kind of nice having someone hate his guts instead of pretending to worship the ground he walked on. It made him feel a little more...human.

Chad finished up what he had to do, instructed his team on the orders they had to carry out, and then offered to take Rukia home. She obliged eagerly and they made their way out of the lavish home, without her sparing a single word for him.

Once everyone had left, he shook his head in disbelief. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

Rukia dragged herself out of bed the next morning, already dreading the events of that day. She was scheduled to meet with Urahara to discuss the previous night's 'mission' at ten but she knew that was where her day would probably end. Urahara would promptly fire her, she'd go back home to cry about it for a few hours, pull herself back up, and start on the job applications.

Just when she thought she had a little glimmer of hope it all had to get screwed up again. This time she could thoroughly place the blame on a certain orange-haired celebrity instead of herself and her shitty circumstances. Last night had been...bizarre, to say the least. If anyone had told her something like that would happen, she would've fallen on her ass from laughter. She didn't want to think about him, though. It was his fault she was walking to her imminent firing in the first place. He had saved her, yes, and for that she was grateful, but she couldn't separate how he was screwing up her life again at the same time.

She trudged into the building where Urahara's _Tokyo Digest_ headquarters were stationed, already downing her third cup of coffee that morning. She walked to the elevator and took it up to the proper floor with ghostlike steps, her mind too inundated with thoughts to focus on everything around her. She had given herself an extra thirty minutes of sanity time that morning so the office was already bustling by the time she stepped out of the elevator.

However, as soon as she made her way to her shabby little cubicle in the corner of the large open room, she was surprised to find the attention of the hard-working employees shift...to her.

 _Okay, this is creepy_ , she thought to herself as she slowly made her way to her desk, trying to ignore the blatant stares pinpointed directly on her person. What the hell was the deal here? Did Urahara announce to the entire floor that she was getting fired that morning? Were they throwing some kind of party because of it? She had never took the time to befriend anyone who worked at the tabloid paper, too busy hating everyone and thinking they were lowlifes to choose this job while also failing to ignore the irony of that idea.

She figured it didn't matter if she was suddenly fired. Urahara had a revolving group of employees under him as it was, another job lost was no big deal.

So why the _hell_ was everyone staring at her and whispering amongst themselves? She felt like she was in some kind of movie and she had walked in with a scarlet letter on her chest. When she got to her desk and sat down, the whispering subsided a little as people began to get back to work but that didn't stop the random glances at her desk and the way people slowed as they passed by where she sat. Rukia tried to not let it affect her, but she couldn't shake just how freaked out everyone's attention on her made her feel. And really, she didn't think anyone would blame her apprehension, given she couldn't figure out why it was happening.

She did her best to ignore the poorly disguised whispers and glances up until her meeting with Urahara finally rolled around. Truth be told, it didn't matter if the whole office was focused on her for some reason, she was about to be fired anyway so who the hell cares.

Urahara buzzed her deskphone and she let out one last sigh before standing and walking to his office, her feet feeling like cement blocks with every step she took. How did her life end up here, she wondered.

She knocked on her boss's door, was beckoned inside, and trudged to the seats facing his desk before she plopped herself down in one. No point in keeping any kind of semblance of professionalism when she was about to get fired.

Urahara didn't look at her, absorbed in one of her co-worker's articles or something before he lightly placed his pen down, crossed his fingers, rested his chin on his hands, and looked at her with one of the most self-satisfied expressions she'd ever seen on his face.

And that was saying something.

"Good morning, Miss Kuchiki. I trust you're doing well today," he started, failing miserably at keeping the smug tone out of his voice. Rukia eyed him strangely at that before giving up and sighing at his antics.

"Urahara, if you're going to do it, just get it over with. No point in sugarcoating anything."

"What, pray tell, do you mean by that, Rukia-chan?" he asked with fake innocence, purposefully using her least favorite nickname to irritate her.

"If you're going to fire me, just fire me."

Taking Rukia momentarily aback, Urahara had the audacity to look _surprised_ at that accusation, as if their agreement the previous day never happened.

"Why, dear Rukia-chan, do you think you're getting fired today?"

God, she hated him. Stringing her along even to the very end. She wasn't looking forward to being unemployed, but she was looking forward to having an excuse to stay away from her creep of a boss.

And soon to be former boss.

"You know very well that I didn't get anything from Kurosaki last night. I went, I did as I was told, and I was turned down. Just like we agreed on, that means I'm done here. So, give me whatever papers I need to sign so I can at least get my severance pay." She needed something to put the ramen noodles in the microwave while she was unemployed.

At that statement, Urahara let loose a very fake and over-dramatic gasp. She desperately wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she had a sneaking suspicion that would only spur his ridiculousness on. "Oh, my dear sweet Rukia-chan. You think you're getting _fired_ today? On the contrary, you just became my new favorite employee."

It was hard to tell when Kisuke Urahara was being serious or not, but, despite all his misgivings, he wasn't the kind of guy to lie about firing someone. So, naturally, this particular statement made Rukia actually stop and listen.

"Wait, what? What are you talking about now...crazy man," she asked, keeping the last part to herself though she was sure he heard her. She didn't care that there was yet another glimmer of hope for her job being dangled in front of her, she was done groveling for Urahara and wouldn't bother kissing his ass to get it.

"You may not have gotten personal information out of Kurosaki...directly, but you still went above and beyond."

"Urahara, quit bullshitting me. What the hell are you talking about?"

At this, Urahara's over-the-top dramatic look turned into a one a tad bit more...sinister. "Oh? You don't know?"

"Know what?" she questioned through gritted teeth. Her patience with this man was currently in the negatives.

Instead of answering her directly ( _because God forbid Kisuke Urahara ever do_ that) he gave her a self-satisfied smirk, rustled through one of the many stacks of papers littering his desk, and plopped something down right in front of her.

As soon as she got a good look at it, Rukia's heart plummeted.

_No. Fucking. Way._

What Urahara had presented to her was a newspaper, a tabloid much like the one she was hired to write for, only this one belonged to the rival tabloid Urahara's had always battled to get the first scoop from. Normally, Rukia wouldn't give a shit about it, but the grainy picture on the cover along with the headline written in bold, attention-stealing print nearly took her breath away.

" _From Movie Star to Local Hero: Ichigo Kurosaki Rescues Unsuspecting Woman from Rapist at His Uptown Apartment Building"_

The main headline was followed by multiple smaller sub-headings which also were cause for alarm to the now significantly distressed twenty-three-year-old.

" _Woman Reportedly a Tabloid Journalist!"_

" _Is this the Start of a Cinderella Love Story?"_

" _Pair Goes Back up to Rom-Com Star's Penthouse to 'Cope'"_

" _Did Ichigo Kurosaki Do More than Comfort the Reporter? Story on page 10"_

It was silent for a few minutes as Rukia gazed at the paper in increasing horror and Urahara looked on smugly. Finally, in a weak voice, Rukia spoke. "W-what the hell is this?"

"Hmmm, seems you weren't as discreet as you hoped to be. I am sorry I caused you to be in danger, but _clearly_ it worked out all right," was Urahara's practically giddy response. Rukia knew why he was so happy. She had been working in the tabloid industry long enough to know that this was a _huge_ story, especially because it involved the hottest new media star.

And, _of course,_ because the universe couldn't find it in itself to give her a goddamn break, she had to be roped into it.

The only coherent thought Rukia could form in her overused brain was, " _Well...shit."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Rukia pressed the start button on her trusty microwave and watched the machine light up as it started to magically heat up her cup-o-noodles. She watched her marvelously gourmet dinner spin in repetitive circles with a blank expression and a numb feeling coursing throughout her body. She barely noticed the descending numbers flashing across the electronic screen, her mind too busy dealing with far more important issues.

Out of all the places Rukia expected to see herself in the future, the front cover of a tabloid newspaper was _far_ down on the list. She hoped, once she finally made a name of herself, that she'd one day see herself on the back cover of her own book, or as the lead author and editor for the _Tokyo Times_. She never in a million years would have predicted she'd be called some random celebrity's newest squeeze.

That's what she got for doing everything she was told to wholeheartedly. She finally put some dedication into a job she hated and this was how she was repaid? Almost assaulted and then secretly photographed to feed the mainstream media's obsession with some orange-haired movie star?

Although, Rukia thought bitterly as her mind flashed back to that morning after Urahara had so unceremoniously dropped the news, it wasn't just the media as a whole that was so interested in this story. It had started with her over eager boss and then had exploded amongst her coworkers. A particular memory appeared in her head as the microwave started to beep.

_Rukia walked numbly to the communal coffee pot that had to at least be reaching a few hundred years old, buzzing away in the floor's staff kitchen. Her mind wouldn't let her focus on the stale coffee she practically used as a drug. She was having more trouble getting the grainy image on the front page of the tabloid her boss had presented to her out of her head._

_She passed more blatantly staring coworkers on her slow journey to the kitchen, but she didn't really care about them as much now that she knew why they were all so fixated on her. As she grabbed a styrofoam cup and filled it up with the cold coffee, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. It seemed as though not even her coworkers would give her a moment of peace._

" _Heyyy, if it isn't the office's newest celebrity! Never knew you had it in you to be front page material, Kuchiki. Though…I bet this isn't how you envisioned it."_

_Rukia turned mechanically at the sound of the laughter bubbling up in Shuhei Hisagi's voice. She flashed him a murderous look, which he of course weathered like a pro (the annoying bastard), and sighed._

" _Shut the hell up, Hisagi. I've already had a pretty damn bad day and you're only making it worse."_

_Looking not even slightly remorseful, Hisagi casually leaned against the plastic table in the center of the kitchen and appraised Rukia with the charming smile that made all the girls swoon and her want to vomit. "Come on, Kuchiki. This is a big day for you! Brand new in the industry and already on the cover."_

_The tittering sound of his voice frayed the last of Rukia's perilously on edge nerves. She growled at him and made to leave the kitchen before his body stepped in her way._

" _Alright, alright. I'm done with the jokes. But seriously, Kuchiki, how did any of that even happen? Rescued by a super famous movie star? Seems pretty crazy."_

_Impossibly, Rukia's eyes narrowed even further and she set her coffee cup down on the counter just so she could cross her arms at her annoying coworker. "It's a long story...and I'm not going to tell you any of it."_

_Hisagi looked affronted. "Why not?"_

_Instead of verbally answering him, Rukia uncrossed her arms before reaching in to the pocket of Hisagi's leather jacket and pulling out the tape recorder she knew had been there. At least now, the spiky-haired man had the decency to look slightly guilty as she presented it to him. Setting the recorder on the table beside him, she turned back to Hisagi to see what his smart-ass response was going to be now._

" _C-come on," he started, his carefree voice a bit more strained now. "This is a huge scoop! The woman Ichigo Kurosaki so heroically rescued sits in a cubicle two desks over from me. You think I'm_ not _going to try and get your side of things?"_

 _Rukia scoffed. "Heroic? He was in the right place at the right time and thanks to Urahara and all the rest of you tabloid assholes, I was in the_ wrong _place at the very_ worst _time. But you media people don't get that do you? You're all vultures and I'm just a fresh dead body."_

 _At her impassioned words, Hisagi's guilty look fell and was replaced by that superiority complex she hated so much about him. "You really should stop talking about the 'media's vultures' like you aren't here scavenging dead bodies with the rest of us. Face it, Kuchiki, the only reason you were even at Kurosaki's place is because you were looking for a story. And now you_ are _the story. You won't be able to get anyone off your back."_

_Not even allowing her the chance to respond, Hisagi pocketed the recorder and walked away with a satisfied smirk. Rukia didn't know whether to be more infuriated or frustrated with the truth behind his pointed words._

Her chopsticks dipped in and out of the bland noodles mindlessly. She continued to stare off into space as she pondered her current predicament. Though, she figured as she let loose a scoff, 'predicament' was not an accurate word to describe what had gone down that day.

Huge, big, fucking, massive ass problem was a bit more appropriate.

She sighed and set her chopsticks down, deciding she wasn't that hungry after all. She got up from her measly kitchen table and furiously closed her laptop from where it was sitting on her couch. She had spent the last few hours cleaning up her inbox of emails. Once word got out that she worked for _Tokyo Digest_ , and had a company email address listed on the website, she had been flooded with requests for interviews or statements from various other tabloid newspapers and websites, and even some from actually reputable magazines. Despite usually being known for fibbing about...well...pretty much everything, the pictures the paparazzi guy from the other tabloid took were plenty enough proof that what had happened was legitimate. Even though Rukia hadn't wanted to, her curiosity won out and she had searched the story online, finding it almost everywhere that had anything to do with the entertainment industry. Hisagi was right. It was a _huge_ story and already Rukia could tell how screwed she was.

She numbly walked into her tiny bathroom, opened her medicine cabinet, and rummaged around for some pain-killers. Her head had been pounding all day because of all of this, and she knew it was only going to get worse. Urahara had already blatantly spoken about how he was going to use this situation to his advantage, and set her to work boosting up the reputation of his newspaper. She figured, as with most big entertainment news stories, this one would fade away with time and things would eventually get better. But just _how_ much time it would take and what her boss planned on doing with her once it was old news...she had no fucking idea.

She collapsed on her rickety bed and heaved another long sigh. She had been doing that a lot today. She attempted to get comfortable and tried not to think about all the shit that she had gotten herself into. Who knows? Maybe something slightly positive would come from all of this.

She scoffed again from her place in bed. Not likely, considering how the universe had made her its bitch.

As she drifted off into a restless sleep, a fleeting thought occurred to her that she had never even considered how Ichigo Kurosaki himself was reacting to this 'big scoop'. In the end she decided she didn't give a damn. He was used to all the attention, he could certainly handle one little thing like this.

* * *

As Rukia left her apartment the next morning, she felt a peculiar kind of dread weigh down on her. Granted, she had been feeling like shit since that tabloid had been published, but for some reason an even more prominent feeling of uncertainty came upon her as she walked down the streets toward the nearest train stop. Normally she preferred to drive her car to work, since it was a pretty good distance away and with her general distaste for other human beings, she liked the privacy of that kind of morning commute.

But of course, her car was still immovably parked at Ichigo Kurosaki's fancy apartment building. She still had to call someone to come tow the damn thing and lord knows she didn't have the time, money, or energy to do that anytime soon. So, she walked a few blocks with the rest of the morning commuters, the headphones stuffed in her ears and the calming music doing its best to keep the world blocked out.

The peace Rukia was so desperately trying to obtain would never be found, it seemed, when she suddenly heard an enthusiastic shout of, "Hey, there she is!" before a group of people started moving toward her.

With cameras and tape recorders.

"You're the reporter Ichigo Kurosaki saved, right?"

"Is it true the rom-com star came to your rescue?"

"What did you two do once he brought you upstairs?"

"Are the rumors true that he wants to take you out to dinner?"

Rukia's entire body froze and her eyes widened. She couldn't command her limbs to move as she was surrounded and flashes of light nearly blinded her. She stuttered out a few questioning words, but never managed to string anything together. The group was getting closer and closer to her, invading more of her personal space and the young reporter didn't even know what to do.

She tried to just walk away, but the group moved with her like some weird human wave. Once she felt some of them pushing against her, she began to struggle more to just get away. This was too much to handle. Combined with the stress of the last few days (and really just her entire life) and the sheer surprise of being approached like this so suddenly, Rukia was unravelling at an alarming pace.

Her head swiveled to look around at the people surrounding her, knowing that a lot of them would be considered her colleagues. That thought only made her feel worse as she continued to struggle to get away from them.

Suddenly, her eyes caught on a familiar head of hair and she stopped, the crowd surrounding her on all sides now. Her mouth dropped open in shock and disbelief and finally she was able to find her voice.

"H-Hisagi!?"

Her coworker lowered his camera with a sheepish look before he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "What? We work together, Kuchiki, you know this is my job."

As the anger started to overflow from the frayed reporter, Rukia became even more shocked when Hisagi simply raised his camera and started taking more shots of her. This was all just completely unbelievable. She knew that she had signed up to do some pretty crazy stuff when she joined Urahara's tabloid, but she never really expected to be in this position, on the other side of the cameras and the recorders. Her stress turned into fury as the tiny woman balled her hands into fists and breathed heavily. "Why, you little piece of-," as Rukia attempted to lunge out in anger at her coworker and the rest of the paparazzi crazies, her arm was caught in mid air and her body was forced back. Now angry at whoever had stopped her, Rukia swiveled around, intent on letting loose all her anger and stress.

She stopped cold when she was met by an actual giant clothed in a pressed suit and wearing dark sunglasses to cover his eyes. His face was stone cold and she briefly noticed an earpiece hanging from his right ear. Before Rukia could try and figure out who the hell he was, the giant man began dragging her away from the crowd rather roughly.

Now her shock and fury was turned into fear as she felt as though she was being kidnapped by someone hired to protect the president.

"H-hey! What...what the hell are you doing? L-let go of me!" Cameras continued to flash and the mob of paparazzi followed after as she was dragged over to where a nearby black SUV was apparently waiting for them. Before she could get away, the giant flung upon a door and practically deposited her inside, closing it decisively behind him. He got into the passenger seat quickly before Rukia was lurched back as the car suddenly veered into traffic.

Flustered, slightly frightened, and really fucking pissed off, Rukia attempted to find balance on the cushy leather seat she had been thrown onto before she turned toward the giant and whoever was driving the car in anger. "Hey, what the hell is going on? No one has any business kidnapping me. I'm worth jack shit, you're going to get dick all for a ransom if that's what you're after."

A put upon sigh was heard from beside the frazzled reporter and she actually took the time to look at the seat next to her, which she noticed for the first time since being thrown into the car was occupied by a prim and put together woman with dark hair up in a stylish bun and glasses framing her sharp face. "You're not being kidnapped, Ms. Kuchiki. Please try and calm down."

Pushing aside more of the uncertainty that bubbled up inside of her at the sight of the woman (who looked oddly familiar somehow), Rukia let more of her anger return as she turned on her.

"Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to be calm? A mob of people swarms me while I'm just walking to work and then some secret service guy grabs me and stuffs me in a van? How the hell am I supposed to feel?"

The woman rolled her eyes and then sighed again, looking like the last thing she wanted to be doing right now was talking Rukia down from a ledge. "I apologize for being so abrupt, but taking you off the street instead of calmly approaching you was the only way to make sure you didn't do, or say, something stupid in front of the paparazzi back there."

Rukia lifted an eyebrow at that. "Why the hell would you care what I do or say in front of a bunch of media vultures?"

The woman's eyes suddenly found Rukia's own and she nearly shrunk back at the sharp glance. "Interesting. I thought _you_ were a media vulture as well."

Now it was Rukia's turn to roll her eyes. "Only because I absolutely have to be, but...hey, wait a minute, how do you know what I do? Or what my name is?"

Her apparent kidnapper simply turned back to watching the buildings of downtown Tokyo pass by out the window and replied in a monotonous voice, "We have a lot to discuss, Ms. Kuchiki. Since I did so rudely pick you up off the street, at least allow me to treat you to some brunch. Okay?"

Her words were placating, but her expression was anything but as she turned back toward Rukia. There was apparently no room for her to argue as they continued to weave through traffic, clearly going toward the ritzier part of town. Against her better judgement, Rukia kept her mouth shut and allowed them to take her wherever they were going with little protests. She had plenty of her own questions and if this woman was offering some answers (and free food) she'd at least take her up on it.

Before Rukia knew it, she was looking up from an obscenely high-priced menu in a swanky restaurant in uptown. She felt like the most ridiculous fish out of water in her ragged jeans and plain button up amongst a crowd of patrons in designer clothes and suits, sipping mimosas and chatting lightly. She was sitting across from the mystery kidnapper and was trying not to let her jaw drop to the floor at the cost of some of the menu items.

"Feel free to get whatever you want. Price isn't an issue," her kidnapper spoke calmly as she perused the menu herself.

 _Clearly_ , Rukia inwardly thought, her eyes almost bugging out of her head at a particular breakfast item that came with caviar. _Fucking_ caviar.

After a waiter wearing polished shoes and a bowtie came to take their orders, Rukia watched as the woman sitting across from her folded her hands daintely on the table and finally met her unsure gaze.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Ms. Kuchiki. I apologize for not doing it sooner, but I wanted us to be sitting peacefully while we had this conversation." Again, her words were apologetic and polite, but her face remained as neutral as it was when Rukia first noticed her in the car. "My name is Nanao Ise. I'm Ichigo Kurosaki's personal assistant and manager. I handle all of his affairs."

Understanding practically flooded Rukia at these words and she wondered why the hell this Ise woman didn't just say that at the beginning. One statement and Rukia now knew _exactly_ why she had been plucked off the street the way that she was.

"It is rather...unfortunate that I have to meet with you like this, but given the unique set of circumstances, I find it to be necessary."

Rukia's confusion dissipated and she cut right to the chase. "Look, I'm not going to say anything to any reporters. I know you have no reason to believe me given how I got myself into this in the first place, but I know how to keep my mouth shut. I won't ruin Ichigo Kurosaki's reputation."

For the first time since they had been thrown together, Nanao Ise's mouth curved up into something resembling a smile and she tilted her head at Rukia's words. "That's why you think I'm here talking to you? Really, if it was that simple, I wouldn't have grabbed you off the street."

Rukia eyed the other woman warily at this, not having any idea of what the point of all this was now.

"Ms. Kuchiki, this may sound brash but Mr. Kurosaki has plenty of money to keep the proper people silent if he needed to. Just because stories like this leak out occasionally doesn't mean that if we wanted to keep you silent, we wouldn't have the resources to be able to."

Rukia didn't even want to _think_ about the implications of that statement.

Nanao continued. "And just because you got tangled up in all of this, that doesn't mean we find you to be a threat to his reputation or anything. You are just a reporter. Mr. Kurosaki is worth _millions_. We would've gotten it done quite easily."

Rukia attempted to brush over the condescending way she spoke in order to at least get a straight answer from _someone_. She was sick of everyone just toying with her. "So...why am I here then?"

"You're here because we want to _use_ you, not silence you."

Rukia's only response was to scrunch her face up in confusion, but it was enough to keep Nanao talking. "This is a very unique situation. Usually when photographs get leaked and stories form before we can stop them, they have a negative impact. Secret relationships, lavish vacations, etc."

"Okayyyy."

"But this...this is really quite something. Some have attempted to stage similar events to what happened, but it doesn't truly resonate with the public unless it's real. Ichigo Kurosaki as an unsuspecting hero is almost as perfectly cliche as his movie scripts. Combined with the fact that you're essentially a nobody, it's everyone's favorite Cinderella story."

Rukia's eyes narrowed at the "nobody" comment, but it wasn't like she could refute it. Again, Nanao continued on.

"And I'm sure you can already tell by now that the public is absolutely eating up this story. It's on every news website's front page and on every tabloid cover. And finally, my boss doesn't look like a lazy playboy."

"Okay, fantastic. Your pretty boy movie star gets to be the hero for a little while. I don't see what this has to do with me."

Letting that smile-ish expression grow, Nanao reached into the attache case she had with her and pulled out a stapled packet of papers before she laid it in front of Rukia's dainty placemat.

She took a quick look at the papers and then back at Nanao, her questions not anymore answered than they were before. "What the hell is this?"

Nanao's expression fell and she flashed Rukia another one of her pointed looks. "I assume you know how to read graphs."

Rukia's anger and exasperation only grew at that and she rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, I'm not fucking stupid, I just didn't know why you had to be all dramatic...Jesus…" she grumbled as she looked at the figures on the page. Each of the graphs were labelled with all of Ichigo Kurosaki's box office hits. On one axis was the estimated revenue and on the other was the timeline. The one that caught the most attention was the graph for the movie he was currently promoting, the one Rukia had attended the press conference for. Instead of revenue, it showed pre-order ticket sales. The last two bars depicted the sales the day before the story dropped and yesterday.

And one bar was a lot taller than the other one.

Rukia's eyes went back to Nanao, but her expression remained unchanged. "So Ichigo Kurosaki being a big hero boosts sales." She made sure her voice sounded completely unexcited. It wasn't like _she_ was getting any of this money.

"Sales didn't just boost. They _sky-rocketed_. It's absolutely unprecedented and something we would never have been able to create on our own. True serendipity at work."

Rukia let out a put-upon sigh and pushed the papers back over to Nanao. "Fantastic, this still doesn't explain why you had the secret service come kidnap me."

The other woman's lopsided smile returned and she folded her hands on the table once more. "Ms. Kuchiki, the entertainment industry, while built upon the foundation of the arts, is still a business industry. And Mr. Kurosaki and I, along with his agents, investors, directors, and pretty much anyone else involved in his image...can recognize a golden opportunity when we see one. If we kept you quiet and didn't comment on what happened, the story would be old news within a matter of weeks and the numbers would go back to what they were. But...if we cultivated it and continued to build up the Cinderella story that's formed...we can find true success."

Well, Rukia thought with a small scoff, it was certainly obvious that this woman worked in the entertainment industry, with her flowery language and propensity to present things so dramatically. Still, Rukia was starting to get a better idea of why she was more involved...and she wasn't sure she was alright with it at this point.

"So what exactly do you want me to do? Pretend like I'm falling in love with my big hero? Unlike your boss, I'm terrible at acting."

"I'm impressed you caught on so quickly, Ms. Kuchiki." Again, with the condescension. What did this woman take her for? She was poor yes, but it's not like she didn't get a college degree or anything. Christ. "Though it's not going to be quite as cut and dry as you think."

"Meaning…" Rukia countered in a strained voice.

"We want to take it slow. If we just sent you and Ichigo out together acting like you're star-crossed lovers, not as many people would believe it. Certainly some would, but not enough to boost our sales the way we want. Plus, as you said, that would require the _both_ of you were good at acting. No, we'd like to take a different approach.

"It will be easy the first few times. Simple coffee or lunch gatherings as a way for you to thank your rescuer or for Ichigo to try and comfort the victim he saved. We want it to be natural. You'll start out hesitant, not sure what to make of this celebrity treating you to food and drinks, as I'm sure you are anyway. Then, the two of you start to be seen together more often and the media begins to wonder where this is going. Are they friends? Secretly lovers? Acquaintances that happened to be forced together? The mystery of it all will be even more appealing to the public."

Rukia couldn't help but eye Nanao skeptically at all of this. The whole concept seemed completely...crazy. What was even more crazy was that they were expecting _her_ of all people...some random down and out aspiring journalist-turned-reluctant tabloid reporter to simply...play along.

"So you want me to just...hang out with Ichigo Kurosaki enough to where people notice?"

"Essentially. As I'm sure you're well aware, the media will able to spin something with the crumbs we plan on giving them."

Rukia scoffed and crossed her arms, all of this sounding too perfectly nice. "So what's in all of this for me? The media already thinks I'm just some pitiful damsel and this will only make it all worse. Why would I subject myself to all the cameras and the scrutiny? To help a rich pretty boy get richer? I have a career to think about...right now it's a shitty career but I still have a miniscule sliver of hope that I can work my way up. This will only damage my reputation for my own future."

Nanao's smile turned even more sly. "You'll be given a significant cut of the money from the sales."

Rukia froze and her eyes widened. She didn't even find herself bothered by the sadistically gleeful look in Nanao's eyes. She never liked to think of herself as desperate. She was merely a young, working woman just trying to make a name for herself in a brutal industry. She knew she would be able to stick it out through the hard times to get to her dream job. That was the whole point of leaving Byakuya's home and his money and scraping to get by. She wouldn't be doing this if she didn't have some resolve and hope.

But still, her dinners consisted mostly of stale noodles and her car was a wreck and her boss was a creep and her tiny apartment was infested with cockroaches and they were dangling something in front of her that made her second guess all of her values.

She met Nanao's pleased gaze with a sharp look that would rival the other woman's.

"When do I start?"

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki set down his glass of bourbon on the nearby table and leaned back in one of the lounge chairs set out in the living room of his penthouse apartment. He crossed his legs out in front of him and opened his laptop, typing in the address for his trusted search engine.

Ever since the conversation with Nanao earlier that day, he had been itching for more information. He had figured after she angrily left his place a few days ago, that the strange reporter woman would be gone forever from his life. But his managers saw the usefulness of the tiny, malevolent woman and had dragged him into the mess.

Granted, what they were proposing was certainly attractive. He pretended to be someone he wasn't for a living, and if doing the same with this tabloid journalist woman was going to get him enough money to where he wouldn't have to constantly be in the public eye, hopping from movie set to movie set, and would actually be able to _enjoy_ his fame and success for a little while, he sure as hell wasn't going to question it.

But still, he had no idea how this Rukia Kuchiki chick was going to react to the proposition or what she would be like when they were inevitably forced back together. He was still reeling from the way she had closed herself off to him the night he'd rescued her. It was all just so confusing. He wasn't used to women reacting toward him this way, and certainly not someone from the media.

That was another thing he wasn't sure about with this whole situation. Rukia Kuchiki had the potential to help them all make a lot more money, but she was still a part of the godawful media. She worked for one of the most notoriously sneaky tabloids out there. Ichigo knew very well who Kisuke Urahara was. He had been instructed since day one of his career to avoid anything having to do with the man, lest he set himself up for ruin. Urahara and his minions were some of the best and most forward at getting the scoop. The fact that all of this had started because this Kuchiki woman had been staking out in his parking garage to try and get more information was proof enough of that fact. Who's to say she wouldn't still be sneaking around the more they hung out together, looking for something that would bring him down. The promise of the hefty cut she would receive was sure to keep her behaved for a while but...who knows how long it would last?

" _Look," Rukia began, trying to diffuse the situation as best she could. "I don't want to be here in this fucking cold waiting for you to come back to your house to ask you a question, but my boss gave me an ultimatum and if I don't get something from you he's going to fire me and then I'm never going to be a real journalist! Can't you just make something up that doesn't make you seem like too bad of a person but keeps the tabloids satisfied?" Rukia pleaded, going straight for the heart._

He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn't help but believe there was something unique about this particular tabloid reporter. Her question from the press conference certainly helped sway him in that direction, combined with the fact that it seemed as though the last place she wanted to be that night she'd been attacked was in some cold parking garage waiting for him to come around so she could talk to him.

He still didn't know what to make of all of it.

But there was still something else. Something that added even more mystery to all of this nonsense. Her name was...awfully familiar. He figured it wasn't necessarily a guarantee, since all last names were generally ubiquitous (there were certainly plenty of other Kurosaki's out there not at all related to him) but he knew too much about the prestigious, cold-blooded and wealthy Kuchiki family to not help but wonder. Just to _be_ a Kuchiki was an honor around Tokyo and really all across Japan. The name itself was practically its own title.

Ichigo finally typed the reporter's name into the search bar and curiously waited for the results to pop up. It didn't take him long. His suspicions were confirmed by the end of the first page of website hits that were generated.

' _Kuchiki Heiress Receives Top Marks at Prestigious Private Academy'_

' _Kuchiki Heiress Set to Attend Highly Acclaimed University of Tokyo, Hopes to Help Run Kuchiki Corporation Alongside Kuchiki Head and Brother-in-Law, Byakuya Kuchiki'_

' _Meet Rukia Kuchiki: The Young, Up-and-Coming Kuchiki Heiress Destined for Greatness'_

Almost all the articles that returned were along the same lines. She had won seemingly countless awards at her high-end private school, had gotten into one of the most highly ranked universities in Japan, and had been set to run the multi-billion dollar Kuchiki Corporation alongside her brother-in-law, Byakuya.

So...what happened?

Unless Rukia Kuchiki was living some kind of double life for shits and giggles, he suspected a graduate of the University of Tokyo who had majored in business and had been practically groomed to be a major company leader wasn't exactly the first person he would expect to be working a lowly job at some tabloid rag.

It was certainly more difficult to find than an article praising her vast achievements (which he suspected was probably the work of Byakuya Kuchiki and his silencing money) but he eventually came across a small, almost meaningless article from a questionable tabloid site, much like the one the heiress currently worked for.

Well, _former_ heiress if this article was true.

' _Byakuya Kuchiki's Stellar Sister Heiress Reportedly Cut off from Kuchiki Money and Kicked Out of Clan!'_

The article didn't list any reasons (well, any legitimate ones) but did mention how Rukia Kuchiki had been poised for so much success, but had been mysteriously removed from anything having to do with the wealthy Kuchiki family. The article was dated from only a few months ago.

"Interesting," Ichigo spoke aloud as he continued to research. And, sure enough, no more articles touting the potential of the Kuchiki heiress were found after the previous one was published. Ichigo poked around at the official sites of the Kuchiki Corporation and the one in charge of public relations for the family as a whole and found no mention of Rukia anywhere, despite how heavily she had been advertised before. It was as if someone had purposefully removed her from anything even bearing the Kuchiki name.

"Guess I'm not the only one holding onto a few secrets," he wondered aloud. The reporter's words to him in the garage came back once more.

" _...my boss gave me an ultimatum and if I don't get something from you he's going to fire me and then I'm never going to be a real journalist!"_

Was _that_ why she had been kicked out and cut off? Because she wanted to be a journalist and her big brother didn't approve? He couldn't think of a more insane decision than someone giving up wealth and prestige of that caliber to work for a fucking _tabloid_.

Well, they certainly had something to talk about when they got together. Their first meeting was scheduled to be a simple lunch date the following day at a cafe not far from where she worked...to make it seem like _she_ had picked the place.

He had no idea what to expect, but as she had been doing since the moment she lifted those marvelously gorgeous violet eyes to him, she was sure to keep him guessing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Rukia's eyes darted around the crowded cafe a few blocks away from the building she worked in. She hadn't even bothered to take a look at the menu, knowing every item would be absurdly overpriced, as she was nervously awaiting the arrival of her lunch date...and whatever paparazzi were following him.

The table she sat at was situated by the window, with a decent enough view of the Tokyo city streets. Nanao had arranged it specifically this way, stating that it was in an open enough area where they would be noticed, but not all the way outside amongst the patio seating, which would come off as a little _too_ obvious. Rukia thought this whole thing was ridiculous, but if Ichigo Kurosaki's assistant and manager was telling the truth about the cut she was guaranteed at the end of all of this, she wasn't going to complain all that much.

She fiddled with the frayed ends of her baggy sweater and thought back once again to her and Nanao's conversation from the previous day.

" _Wait, what am I supposed to wear to this little lunch date? I don't think you people want me to be seen around someone like Ichigo Kurosaki with ratty jeans and scuffed up shoes."_

 _At her question, Nanao simply shook her head. "Oh, on the contrary, Ms. Kuchiki, I was going to specifically ask that you wear one of your…_ endearing _little outfits. It'll help add to our credibility. People already know you aren't exactly the wealthiest person my boss has come into contact with, so if we dress you up for this everyone will know it's just an act. As I said earlier, we want this to be as natural as possible so just...act like yourself."_

Finally taking the time to pick up the menu, Rukia shook her head as the memory flashed through her mind. Sure, they were going for 'natural' and wanted Rukia to just 'be herself', but the former heiress knew very well that these people didn't truly understand what it meant for Rukia to act like she would normally act. After so many years being groomed to be absolutely perfect, she abhorred anything that made her seem...well, normal. She tended to throw social decorums out the window more often than not. She spoke plainly, cursed like a sailor, and didn't give a damn what people thought about her. If that's what these rich movie people really wanted then sure...she could easily just 'act like herself'.

Her eyes finally drifted down to the menu she held and she almost immediately lifted an eyebrow. "Jesus...who the fuck charges 700 yen for black coffee? God, I can't stand these trendy places."

"You don't need to worry about the price. Just get whatever you want...it's all on me," a masculine voice spoke from behind her. Before she could turn around and greet who she knew would be standing there, the form of one Ichigo Kurosaki rounded the corner of the table and casually sat in the seat across from her like he owned the place. He flashed her a charming smile, pocketed the keys to his expensive car in his spotless coat and picked up the menu to look at the listings himself.

Instantly, Rukia's mood soured further, noticing the way he was clearly already putting on an act. Though, if she were to give him the benefit of the doubt, she figured he always acted like this in public. It was less about what they were doing and more just what he was used to. Still, that didn't stop it from pissing her off.

"Yeah, it better be on you. Trust me, if I was paying we'd be picking up bentos from the bodega across the street."

Ichigo Kurosaki's smile grew at those words and his eyes went back down to the menu. God, it was already infuriating watching him act. How he had made a whole career off of doing this when Rukia could barely stand to look at him right now, she didn't even know.

"You're as charming as I remember. Nanao sure as hell wasn't kidding," he commented lightly, his eyes never straying from the menu even as Rukia's narrowed in anger.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The movie star let loose a small chuckle and shook his head. "Nothing. We're supposed to be meeting here as unlikely acquaintances, not enemies. Best not to get off on the wrong foot."

Rukia eyed the orange-haired man warily and grumbled to herself, "You're the one who said something in the first place."

"A-are you ready to order?" a breathless female voice suddenly broke into the conversation, causing both movie star and tabloid reporter to turn questioningly toward the source. A young girl probably no older than eighteen wearing a cute little apron and a starstruck expression on her face stood trembling to the side, her eyes locked on those of Ichigo Kurosaki's.

Rukia couldn't contain the roll of her eyes.

Flashing a smile that nearly made the poor girl collapse, Ichigo asked for a small coffee and a sandwich before turning expectantly toward Rukia. She watched as the waitress's hands shook while she wrote the order down before she bowed reverently and began to walk away.

"H-Hey, wait! I still have to order too," Rukia called out indignantly, startling the girl as her eyes found Rukia's and widened in surprise, as if she was just now noticing that Rukia had even been there in the first place. _Figures_.

"O-oh sorry about that. What would you like, ma'am?"

 _Ma'am?_ She was only twenty-three for Christ's sake, who did this girl think Rukia was? Ichigo's sister?

_Better to fit her fantasies than if she was, God forbid, his date._

Promptly ordering one of the most expensive things on the menu, because why the hell not, Rukia handed the menu over to the waitress and watched as the girl walked away, her eyes still locked onto Ichigo. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that that was not the first time a young woman had done the same in his presence.

His annoying smirk was proof enough of that fact.

"So, _Rukia_ _Kuchiki,_ how do you propose we start this little charade of ours?" The way he emphasized her name, drawing out all the syllables with a sinful tone to his voice only served to further anger the reporter. He was flashing her the same devilish smile he had given the waitress, revealing, in a roundabout way, his feelings on this entire ploy.

She leaned in closer and spoke in a low tone, her eyes narrowed angrily. "You might want to keep your voice down when talking about 'charades' if you want people to actually believe them. Aren't you supposed to be the actor here?"

Ichigo Kurosaki smirked again. "You're right. How do you suggest I play it then? Mysterious and dreamy? Or maybe friendly and laid back. Or...should I close myself off to you completely and then let you chip away at the walls of my heart. You're the one in the media, tell me what works best for you people."

He leaned back from her, unable to keep the grin off his face while Rukia's angry expression fell into a stone-cold appraisal. So that's what he really thought about all of this? It was just some funny little game his assistant and directors had concocted to rake in more money? That he could come in and act nonplussed about everything and she would just fall right into step? What the hell did he (or anyone else for that matter) really take her for?

_A nobody, apparently._

Startling him (as well as a few of the patrons sitting nearby), Rukia let out a sudden and purposefully loud bark of laughter that was meant to sound as fake as it did.

"Oh, I'm so glad," she began, her voice light and cheery, even though a toddler could tell she wasn't being genuine. She watched in satisfaction as Ichigo Kurosaki's own smile fell slightly at the act. "I'm so glad that this is all a joke to you. I'm so _happy_ that you get to come in here, mess around, and then go back to your millions. I'm so _fucking elated_ that you get to drive home to your penthouse full of money while I go back to my jackass of a boss and my shitty job and come home to my apartment that's probably smaller than your closet. I'm _really_ grateful that you're taking this so seriously."

Immediately once she finished her little sarcastic tirade her face fell into a lethal expression and her violet eyes flashed to Ichigo's deep amber ones. At least he had the decency to look slightly ashamed of himself, as they held their little mini stare contest. Before he could think of a proper response, Rukia was speaking again.

"This isn't a fucking joke to me. My cut of the money isn't going toward extra beach vacations and a new Lamborghini. It's going to pay my rent, my insurance, the gas for my shitty beat up car. It's going to hopefully get me to the place where I can finally say this entire experience is actually _worth_ something. That me being here pretending to give a shit about you is actually going to get me to a job and a career and a life that I actually _want_. But sure, go ahead and have your little fun. It's not like you _need_ this to actually work. Not like me."

Rukia crossed her arms decisively and watched as Ichigo's face fell and he looked around the restaurant, guiltily trying to come up with a decent enough response to all of that. She hadn't wanted to unload on him when the get together had originally been presented to her, but she couldn't help herself. If he was going to act like none of this really mattered...she had to do something. Maybe it wasn't a big deal to him, but for her it was the open door to the rest of her future.

"I...I'm sor-,"

"No, don't apologize," Rukia quickly interrupted. "Don't pretend like you really care about me or any of this when I know you don't. You're not _that_ good of an actor."

Ichigo's eyes met her own before he eventually sighed. "Then tell me what it is you want from me."

"I want you to take this seriously. I want you to take _me_ seriously. You think all of us media people are just lifeless vultures, but we're human beings too. And unlike you celebrities, we have to think about things like paying bills and overpriced rent. You could at least have the decency to take that into consideration for the first time in your life."

Rukia ignored the part of her brain that pointed out how hypocritical it was of her to put herself in the category of the "media's vultures" when she just had been accusing Hisagi and everyone at Urahara's tabloid of the same thing.

Ichigo Kurosaki gritted his teeth, almost like he was biting back his response to that, before he shook his head and met her steel-like gaze with a determined one of his own. "Alright then. I'll do better going forward. I promise I won't waste any more of your time."

Uncrossing her arms as her own sign of acceptance of their temporary truce, Rukia responded, "That's all I ask."

Before anything else could be said, the waitress returned with their drink orders, laying down Ichigo's coffee mug with shaking hands before placing Rukia's coffee milkshake (at least that's what she figured it was, Rukia hadn't really known what the fancy name they had used for the drink meant before she ordered it) in front of where she sat.

Deciding they had reached a safe enough compromise for the time being, Rukia attempted to relax as she dipped her straw into the fancy drink, tasting it with a satisfied noise. She tried to ignore Ichigo while his eyes watched her critically, his thumb circling the rim of his coffee mug.

Finally, he spoke up. "In the interest of being more conversational, I do have a question for you."

"Hmm?" Rukia responded wordlessly, her eyes never straying from her drink (which turned out to be absolutely _divine_ ).

"How is someone who was set to inherit the entire Kuchiki family fortune struggling to keep jobs and pay bills?"

Rukia's eyes were instantly locked on the deep amber of her 'date's'. She was surprised to see his expression wasn't smug or condescending, but rather genuinely curious. Still, the fact that he would so suddenly bring something like that up had her eyes narrowed dangerously. She sat back in her seat and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"You _researched_ me?"

"I googled you," he responded simply. "It's not like it was hard to figure out. If you're trying to keep it a secret, you might want to do something about your internet search."

At this, Rukia's shoulders slumped and she sighed. No, she really hadn't been trying to keep it a secret. That part of her life was behind her, so no one could really ever use it against her. But still, Ichigo Kurosaki wasn't exactly the first person she wished to be discussing her past with.

"Fine," she eventually responded. "You caught me. Poor Rukia Kuchiki got cut off from her brother's money and now has to live life like a normal human being. _Wah_."

Now it was Ichigo's turn to lift a curious eyebrow. "From what I could tell, you had everything going for you. What happened?"

Rukia rolled her eyes. "I actually wanted to do something for _me_ instead of my stuffy ass relatives. God forbid…"

"So I was right. You wanted to be a journalist and got disowned because of it?"

"Yep," Rukia responded simply, loudly slurping her milkshake.

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. "And how's that working out for you?"

Rukia again met Ichigo's questioning gaze sharply. "You tell me, asshole," she let out in a sarcastic tone, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes for the hundredth time that day.

Ichigo couldn't help but let out a small laugh at her response, looking at her like she had just grown two heads. "If it's really that bad, why don't you just go back to your brother?"

Now it was Rukia's turn to laugh. "Ha! Tell me, Mr. Movie Star, have you ever met my brother?"

Ichigo shook his head with an amused expression.

"Trust me, Byakuya Kuchiki isn't exactly someone you want to go crawling back to for forgiveness."

"Still, you hate your job and have no money. Surely you can overcome the pride to at least go back to him."

Rukia looked off to the side, her mind swimming with thoughts before she spoke in a quieter voice. "If only it were that easy…"

"It just seems like such a waste. A graduate of the University of Tokyo working at a _tabloid_. It's more ridiculous than the plot of my movies. Unless, it was just your brother's money that got your there in the first place," Ichigo spoke, adding the last bit as more of an aside. Still, Rukia picked up on it and immediately straightened her shoulders in protest.

"Now that's where you're wrong, Ichigo Kurosaki. Tokyo isn't a school as easily swayed by money as some of the others. For your information, I am only the _third_ Kuchiki to ever even get in. And my brother was the second."

Now Ichigo looked even more curious as he allowed her to continue. "I didn't get all those awards or my acceptance based on my family's status. I earned that shit _myself_. I know it's hard for someone like you to believe that a tabloid reporter could have an actual brain, but it's true. I didn't need my brother to get to where I was, and I _don't_ need him to get to where I want to be."

Understanding washed over Ichigo as his gaze softened slightly and he nodded his head. "Ah, now I see." Rukia eyed him warily as he continued. "So that's why you won't go back, because you're convinced you can make it in the world on your own. I'll admit...it's noble."

Rukia scoffed at the look on her date's face. "Quit looking so skeptical. You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of."

Ichigo raised his hands in silent surrender, but the disbelieving look remained. Whatever, Rukia thought bitterly, it's not like she cared if this random celebrity thought she could achieve her dreams or not. He probably had no idea what it was like to have to crawl through the mud just to get to the golden door of opportunity. Whether or not he thought she could do it was irrelevant.

Finally, the starstruck waitress brought them their food, lingering a touch longer than she needed to as she set Ichigo's plate down. Rukia nearly salivated at the sight of her dish. She wasn't even sure what she had ordered but whatever it was, it was even more divine than her milkshake, and probably had more substance than anything she'd eaten since she'd been kicked out of the Kuchiki clan. She devoured it wholeheartedly, ignoring the amused looks Ichigo kept shooting her at her rather unladylike appearance.

Blessedly, they finished their meals and the lunch hour date came to a close. Ichigo followed her out of the restaurant and they stopped outside the front doors before facing each other, just as Nanao had instructed them to.

Ichigo Kurosaki casually placed his hands in his peacoat, attempting to ignore the sounds of far-off flashing from the cameras of the not-so-well-hidden paparazzi. She finally took the time to appraise his ensemble, and figured this was why the girls fell head over heels. The jeans clinging to his lower body perfectly accentuated his toned figure. Combined with the skin tight t-shirt and designer coat, he looked like he just hopped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

 _He's probably been on his fair share of them. Not altogether surprising. He'd be cute if his hair wasn't so...distracting_.

Finally, he spoke. "So, do you want a ride back to your office?"

Rukia appreciated the effort to be gentlemanly, but it certainly fell flat after their conversation. She scoffed and answered, "My legs work perfectly fine, thank you. I can walk there."

Ichigo merely shrugged. "Alright then. See you around, _Rukia Kuchiki_." He walked away without another word and Rukia couldn't help but sneer at his retreating form, especially as she watched him casually hop back into his expensive black sports car.

"Tata for now, asshole," she whispered under her breath before she shook her head, stuffed her hands into the pockets of her worn-out coat, and turned back toward the building the _Tokyo Digest_ offices were in, all the while ignoring the curious glances from all the paparazzi and other onlookers.

* * *

The next day found Rukia back at her desk at work, mindlessly scrolling through the front pages of the various tabloid websites. The pictures from her and Ichigo's little lunch date were plastered everywhere and she couldn't help but laugh at some of the headlines that accompanied them.

_Ichigo Kurosaki Spotted Out to Lunch with Reporter Woman He Saved!_

_Is Rom-Com Star, Ichigo Kurosaki, Dating the Victim He Rescued? Our Investigators Weigh In_

_Did Ichigo Kurosaki Really Hit It Off with the Reporter?_

A few of the sites even took the time to mention how "closed off" she appeared and wondered how Ichigo was going to handle her giving him "the cold shoulder". She had to hand it to his assistant, though. The media was eating up, as she had put it, 'the mystery of it all'. This was sure to keep them busy for now.

She eventually took the time to look at the pictures posted on _Tokyo Digest's_ page, all the while continuing to ignore the near constant whispering and murmuring of her nearby coworkers. Ever since the original article had been posted, she hadn't been able to get through half an hour without the secretive conversations and questionable glances sent her way. She knew it would all be worth it once it was over, but damn it all if it wasn't infuriating as hell.

She tilted her head as she clicked through the pictures of her and Ichigo, before shouting to the desk a few spaces over. "Hey, Hisagi!"

A laid back, "Yeah?", was her only answer.

"I appreciate the effort you took to choose the most flattering pictures of me for this."

"Always looking out for you, Kuchiki," he replied, his face still glued to his own computer.

Rukia shook her head at his flippant response, but continued clicking through the pictures curiously. Urahara hadn't given her any new assignments yet, so she'd been bored to tears the last few days trying to keep herself occupied.

Her eyes quickly flashed to the door to her boss's nearby office without even meaning to. Urahara hadn't called her in to talk more about this whole Ichigo Kurosaki situation and she was starting to seriously worry. She knew her job was secure for the time being, but she also knew her boss well enough to know he was probably busily plotting a way to use it to his advantage. The fact that he hadn't presented any of his schemes to her yet had the young reporter on edge.

Well, more on edge than she was normally.

"Hello, Rukia. How are you doing today?"

At the sound of an actually pleasant and friendly greeting, Rukia quickly lifted her eyes to see who had approached her, and immediately relaxed at the sight of one of the only people she worked with that she actually semi-liked. Momo Hinamori's cute smile could put anyone at ease and Rukia couldn't help but return the expression.

"Hey, Momo. I've...been better, I suppose. Just trying to find something to do," she answered, quickly exiting out of the series of paparazzi photos she still could hardly believe she was even in.

Momo's face softened in understanding. "Mm, yeah. Mr. Urahara told me he doesn't want to send you back out on assignments just yet. He says you're bound to attract attention."

Rukia acknowledged that fact with a head nod that could only best be described as gloomy. "Yep. So now I just sit here and wait until he decides I'm useful to him again."

Momo smiled before her face turned serious and she clutched the files she was carrying closer to herself. "I did want to ask how you were feeling about...all of that. I know it could make anyone pretty stressed."

Rukia sighed. Was this the first time someone had asked how she was doing mentally with the news? Probably, considering she had become an afterthought in nearly everyone's minds. "Stressed is the understatement of the century. Doesn't really matter what I think, though. It is what it is and now I have to deal with it."

Momo's face turned sympathetic. "Yeah...well, I know the attention is a lot to deal with, but at least Ichigo Kurosaki seems like a nice enough guy. Do you two actually get along?"

Rukia instantly stilled and quickly met her coworker's curious gaze. Momo seemed genuinely inquisitive, but after Hisagi's antics, she knew not to trust anyone. She groaned and said, "Don't tell me you're hiding a recorder trying to get a statement from me too, Momo."

The other woman's face scrunched up in confusion. "Rukia…" Momo began, sizing her up like she had gone insane (a fair enough act, all things considered), before she continued, "I'm not a reporter. You know I work in sales."

Rukia let out another sigh. "Sorry. It just seems like everyone around me is trying to get something. I think now I can appreciate a bit more what all of our celebrities have to go through. I feel like everything I say could be turned into a headline."

Again, Momo flashed her a look of sympathy. "It'll pass, like everything else does. In a few weeks, people won't even remember your name. I have to go drop these off now, but you hang in there Rukia, okay?" The petite woman spoke in an encouraging tone before she was off down the hallway without another word.

Rukia wished she could believe her, but she knew even if her boss wasn't plotting away, the agreement she had made with Ichigo and his staff would make it so what Momo said was completely impossible. She had hoped she'd be old news in a couple of weeks, but the annoying part of her brain dead set on pointing out the obvious reminded her once more that it was only going to get worse from here.

* * *

When Friday afternoon finally rolled around, Rukia had never been more grateful for a weekend in her life. She hugged her coat closer to her body for warmth as she exited the train station closest to her apartment and walked to the bar she was starting to frequent more and more.

The bartender she knew all too well nodded his head as she entered and got to work pouring a small glass of the cheapest sake they owned before placing it on her designated spot on the far end of the bar. "Rough week?" he asked conversationally, going back to washing the glasses with his trusty dishtowel.

"You have _no_ idea," she answered before she set her bookbag down, peeled her coat off, and downed the sake in one gulp.

She continued to drink, downing one too many shots of the liquor while continuously rubbing her throbbing temples. Thankfully, she hadn't been mobbed in the street by reporters again (mostly by Hisagi's doing, after she had whacked him in the head with a stapler the day after he'd been amongst the crowd of paparazzi, stating he could take all the pictures he wanted so long as he and everyone else kept their distance), but that didn't stop the momentum of this 'Cinderella story' from mounting. Again, she reminded herself it would be worth it, but she sure as hell was glad for a few days off from the madness until she would be forced to jump back in.

Her remorseful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sight of someone laying down a gold credit card next to her empty glass and a bone-chillingly familiar voice called to the bartender, "I'll have a glass of whatever she's having. And put her tab on mine."

Rukia's eyes narrowed dangerously and she turned to where the man attached to the familiar voice sat in the bar stool next to her. Anger built up in her stomach at the sight of him and she sneered, "Renji...what the hell are you doing here?"

The red-headed man heaved a long sigh before turning his annoyingly placating eyes on her own. "I think you already know why, Rukia."

Here, she broke their staredown and turned back toward the bar, ignoring the bartender as he poured them each another glass. "Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." She curiously took the time to turn back and watch as Renji downed the sake like a pro, an old remnant of their college days together. She lifted an eyebrow and added with a disgusted tone, "Since when do you wear a fucking suit and tie? What did Byakuya do, make you the VP?"

Renji sighed again, only further infuriating the young reporter. "Rukia...I don't want to be here saying this anymore than you do. Your brother is just...concerned."

She let out a loud scoff at that. "Yeah, I'll bet he is. Doesn't change the fact that he himself told me I'm no longer a part of any of you people's lives. What the hell does it matter what I do?"

"You may not be in the clan anymore, but your name still attaches its own weight. In the end, it all comes back to your brother."

"And his reputation," she bit out, pointedly added the ending Renji was too delicately trying to skip around.

"Rukia," Renji continued, his voice softening into the tone he used to use when they were kids...when they actually still _liked_ each other. She bristled at the sound of it. "Whether you like it or not, you're still a Kuchiki, and Byakuya is sick of messing around, especially after all this Ichigo Kurosaki nonsense. He's gotten to the end of his patience."

Rukia downed her own sake before slamming the glass to the bar loudly. "Then he should just give up the idea that I'm going to come crawling back. Byakuya thinks I'm just playing some kind of game, but I'm _not_. This is my life now, Renji. I don't need my brother or his money anymore than I did when I left."

For the first time since he'd made his appearance, her old friend's eyes narrowed dangerously, his own anger coming to the surface. "Yeah, I guess not now that you think you can get your money from some rich movie star."

Firmly planting her hands on the bar and quickly standing to her feet, all the while ignoring the way she wobbled and swayed from the amount of sake she'd downed, Rukia straightened her shoulders and met Renji's fierce gaze with one of her own. "You have no idea what the hell you're talking about Renji. The people I choose to associate myself with are none of either you _or_ Byakuya's business. You can tell my brother that he can take his money and shove it right up his ass. What I do, or who I see, no longer effects either one of you." In an even more dangerous tone, Rukia leaned down and quietly added, "Your chance has long since come and gone, Renji Abarai. It's about time you got over yourself and accepted it."

She might've stumbled along, but Rukia walked out of the bar with her head held high, not even bothering to give her former best friend a chance to respond. She was sick of his excuses and sick of his kiss-ass behavior around her brother. That part of her life was behind her now and even if they thought she was fucking around with a movie star so she wouldn't have to do the work herself, she knew what she was really capable of, and what all of this was really about.

She would become a real journalist. She would write for the _Times_. And she wouldn't let anything get in the way of her dreams. Not anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Ichigo placed the tablet he was currently using down on a nearby glass table, leaning back in the adjacent chair with a warm smile he usually only reserved for his closest friends and family. It was certainly appropriate now as the smiling faces of his twin sisters greeted him through the screen.

"Hey, Ichi-nii! So glad we could finally catch you. I feel like we haven't seen you in so long."

Ichigo's smile widened at that. "Well, technically you're not seeing me right now, Yuzu," he told her playfully. He watched in satisfaction as his baby sister with the long golden hair and the pearly white smile huffed and shook her head at him. His other baby sister with the short black hair and perpetual scowl rolled her eyes and finally spoke up.

"You may not be here in person but this is about as good as it gets with us. When was the last time you were even in Karakura?" Karin asked.

At her words, Ichigo's smile faltered slightly and he let out a small sigh. "Probably not since last Christmas. You guys have no idea how much I'd rather be there."

Yuzu flashed him an understanding look through their video call while Karin scoffed. "Why? You live in a penthouse in one of the most exciting cities in the world. Tell me how the good ole Kurosaki Clinic in Karakura Town is better than that?" Her tone was sarcastic and teasing, but she inadvertently brought up one of the most important parts about how Ichigo viewed his life and his career.

"You guys are in Karakura and everyone who seems to have it out for me is in Tokyo. Makes more sense when you look at it like that."

"Are things getting bad over there again?" Yuzu asked in a concerned voice.

Ichigo couldn't help but look away from the screen at her pointed question before he answered, "As bad as it usually gets around premiere time."

"When's this one coming out again?" Karin asked curiously.

"In a few weeks. Just means the scrutiny is only going to get worse."

"Hang in there, Ichigo," Yuzu encouraged sweetly. "I know you always get stressed out, but it will all be worth it. I hear the movie is already getting lots of hype. Should be a good one for you."

Ichigo rubbed his hand wearily across his face. He appreciated his sister's kind words, but it was always hard to believe in her encouragement. Neither of them truly knew what his life really entailed. To them, he was just their big shot movie star older brother. The one they got to brag about and impress people with in Karakura, but whose life stayed wholly separated from their own mundane ones.

"Yeah...and then it's on to the next one. That prick Uryuu already has me reading through other scripts."

Karin smirked. "Boo hoo, Ichigo. You make millions with all these movies. Just think, in ten years you'll have enough to retire off to some island country with your hot supermodel wife. Yuzu's right...you know it's worth it."

As much as he complained, his sisters _did_ have a point, though his end goal was less about giant mansions and a beautiful wife and kids and more about their own success and prosperity. While from the outside looking in, his life might _seem_ glamorous, it was far more hassle than he had originally anticipated. When he decided to pursue acting rather than settle in Karakura with a job that would pay the bills, he hadn't anticipated he'd ever really make it to this point. He loved the theater. He had grown up reading Shakespeare plays and re-enacting them in his bedroom after he finished his homework. But, he had hoped to do something a bit more meaningful than cheesy rom-coms that made him lots of money.

Still, as he watched the smiling faces of his twin sisters, he knew there was no better place for him than here. He was reminded of that every time he got a bill for their student loans, or the mortgage of their home in Karakura. There was a time when their father could barely keep the the four of them afloat, but now Ichigo could sign all the checks and actually do something to help his family live comfortably. Yuzu and Karin got to pursue degrees at a college they loved and their dad got to keep his small family practice going. That was enough for Ichigo.

Changing the subject, Ichigo asked, "Where's the old man? He must be busy, otherwise he would have already made his overly dramatic entrance by now."

Yuzu's smile was understanding. "Last I checked, he was finishing up with patients in the clinic."

Karin was about to open her mouth to add on something, when the sound of a door bursting open in their living portion of the Kurosaki Clinic rang even through the video call. Both of Ichigo's sisters sighed. "Speaking of overly dramatic…" Karin added sarcastically.

"Is that my son!?" a familiar voice was heard saying before a blur approached the screen, lightly shoving Yuzu and Karin out of the way to make room. "Ichigo! Is it true what they're saying!? Have you found a woman to produce grandchildren for me yet?"

Ichigo's scowl was legendary as the camera finally was able to focus on the form of his insane father, still wearing his white coat after a day in the clinic. "Are you really still buying into all the crap, Dad? There's no woman…"

Isshin Kurosaki's face was affronted at his son's words. "B-but the pictures! They looked so real. I thought for sure my dashing son had come to the rescue of some unsuspecting woman and was producing cute little grandbabies for me as we speak!"

Ichigo watched as Karin rolled her eyes and Yuzu's face twisted in confusion. "Wait...came to the rescue? What are they saying now?"

Karin was the one to answer her in a bored voice. "Ichigo saved some reporter chick from being attacked at his apartment complex and the media is having a field day."

"Wait, really? Did that actually happen, Ichigo?"

Ichigo's scowl intensified at the direction this conversation had gone. He had hoped he could get away with talking to his family without mentioning any of...that, but leave it to his crazy father to stalk the tabloids with the same fervor as all the old bitties far too interested in his personal life. "Yes, I helped out a reporter who was being attacked in my parking garage, but that's where the story ends. The only reason she was there in the first place was to stake out and assault me with questions. My management team made me take her out to lunch a few days later because they thought it'd be good publicity."

Ichigo really considered letting his family in on the specifics of the deal he and his team had made with Rukia Kuchiki, but he held himself back. His sisters were trustworthy enough, but he just knew that if his father was privy to the situation, the whole charade wouldn't last longer than two seconds.

Isshin, of course, was the first to respond. Stealing more of the camera space while his daughters groaned in protest, he quickly spoke, "Never you mind about publicity, Ichigo! The reporter is cute and pretty. You should go for it before you grow old and decrepit."

"Can it, old man. I have enough on my plate to deal with without you pushing me toward every woman who blinks in my direction."

Finally tearing himself away from the screen, all three Kurosaki siblings watched in varying states of disgust as Isshin ran toward the giant poster of their mother. "Masaki! Our son is going to die an old man without ever giving us cute, orange-haired grandbabies. What are we going to do!?"

Karin simply rolled her eyes and turned back toward the camera. "Jesus...why haven't we checked him into an insane asylum yet?"

"You got me," Ichigo answered simply, his face a dull mask of irritation.

Yuzu was the first to shake off the display. "Well, like I said earlier, Ichi-nii, hang in there! You know you still make us all proud over here."

Ichigo sighed and attempted to twist his face into a less annoyed expression. "Thanks, Yuzu. I miss you guys."

"Hopefully we'll be seeing you soon!"

"Yeah," he replied as he finished saying his goodbyes and disconnected the call before his father could go into another rant about grandchildren. As much as he loved them, his family really did zap the life out of him sometimes. He wearily rubbed a hand over his face again and stood up from the chair. He knew he should just go ahead and get ready for bed. The cast and crew of his newest movie were scheduled for multiple media appearances the next day and he just knew he needed to save his energy up for whatever the hell that would entail.

Just as he was heading toward his bedroom, he felt his phone buzzing from his back pocket. He curiously reached for it and couldn't help but lift an eyebrow at the contact name that accompanied the text message displayed on the front screen.

_From: Asako 3_

_Hey, feeling a bit lonely and bored. You up for some fun? ; )_

Ichigo sighed as he read the message. As much as his exhaustion told him otherwise, he honestly considered replying and setting up a meeting. Asako was a nice enough girl that he had become acquainted with during one of his many charity event dinners. She was in the PR business so she was always a useful person to have by his side.

But...she ended up helping him in "other" ways more often than not.

In the end, he stretched out his muscles and typed a message:

_I have an early wake up call tomorrow. Maybe next time._

He only had to wait a few more moments before his phone was buzzing once more.

 _Damn_. _Well, don't be too long on that 'next time'. Feels like we haven't hung out in a while._

'Hung out' being a clear euphemism for what they usually did in their spare time. Ichigo grumpily moved toward his bedroom once more, cursing his luck that Asako would reach out on a night before a busy media day. He really could use that form of release right now. The last week or so had been exhausting and stress-inducing beyond belief. Never mind the usual scrutiny that accompanied a big premier, this whole Rukia Kuchiki mess had just added fuel to the fire.

He thought back to his lunch meeting with the tiny tabloid reporter as he lifted his shirt over his head and started the water on his spacious shower. She was certainly an...interesting woman. Even with some of the mystery of her past solved, he still couldn't help but wonder about a number of things. For someone supposedly groomed by the likes of Byakuya Kuchiki, she was awfully...uncouth. Even giving her the benefit of the doubt that her whole attitude on life was just a response to years of expected perfection, she was still unabashedly outspoken.

" _I want you to take this seriously. I want you to take me seriously. You think all of us media people are just lifeless vultures, but we're human beings too. And unlike you celebrities, we have to think about things like paying bills and overpriced rent. You could at least have the decency to take that into consideration for the first time in your life."_

Ichigo stepped into the shower and let the warm water ease the tension on his wound-up muscles as he thought back to what she had said. He still felt a little guilty about the way he had originally handled their meeting, but in that moment he had so badly wanted to tell her the truth about himself and his life. She had a point, certainly, but in the same way she had spent time on both sides of wealth and prestige, he had as well. Now, he was the one with all the money and fame and she was the nobody, but it hadn't been that long since it was reversed. Ichigo had come from nothing and built his success from the ground up. He knew exactly what it felt like to live paycheck to paycheck, to scrounge around for basic necessities and food, wondering if he had enough. And, unlike Rukia Kuchiki, he'd had to look out for the needs of his little sisters and his dad as well.

So Ichigo had certainly taken things like that into consideration plenty in his life, but he didn't see the point in telling Rukia something like that right away. Maybe he would reveal more about his past to her, but for now she saw herself as the one with nothing to lose. Best not to change that outlook, since it really did work in both their favors.

He shook his head as he reached for his soap and began washing up. He needed to stop thinking about her. Some random reporter he was forced to work with wasn't worth the time or the effort. He would make nice and smile for the cameras for a little while to make them both some extra money, and then she would be gone from his life. He would certainly never see her as an ally, especially considering her occupation. As Nanao had said when she proposed the idea to him, her cut of the money would keep her well-behaved...for a while. But she was still a tabloid journalist, and a connection like that was about as dangerous as jumping into a shark tank with an open wound. He needed to keep his distance if he wanted to stay safe from whatever she (or her nosy boss) had planned.

Ichigo switched the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a nearby towel around his waist and shaking loose the water droplets from his hair. He began mentally preparing his mind for the media onslaught the following day, letting thoughts of the short, raven-haired reporter dissipate from his mind. He had better things to worry about at this point.

* * *

Ichigo mindlessly flipped through his phone as the stylists attempted to contain his unruly hair and made sure the dark circles under his eyes weren't as noticeable as before. The dressing room was a flurry of activity, as it usually was before a busy media day. His next movie was set to come out in only a few short weeks, and now that his name had been floating around the entertainment circles the past few days, the media appointments would be even more important than they usually were.

And, as per usual, Ichigo was dreading every minute of it.

"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun! I went ahead and got your usual while I was getting Ishida-kun's order," a familiar voice spoke before, blessedly, a large, black coffee was placed on the table in front of where the movie star sat. Ichigo flashed a grateful smile at the auburn-haired woman in the mirror.

"Thanks, Inoue. You have no idea how much I needed this today," he spoke as he lifted the steaming paper cup to his nose and inhaled the heavenly scent.

Orihime Inoue's smile was understanding as she returned his own. "I can imagine."

Ichigo took a tentative sip of his piping hot coffee while Orihime flipped through the pages on the clipboard she was holding. "Ishida-kun told me we should be ready to go by 7:30, so you have about twenty minutes or so to prepare. This interview should be fairly straightforward."

Ichigo scoffed. "As straightforward as they normally are. Thanks for the heads up, Inoue."

"Of course," she replied, before Ichigo curiously watched as Ishida's auburn-haired assistant looked away and began biting her lip nervously.

"Did you need something else, Inoue?" he asked after noticing her begin fiddling with the pages of her clipboard. Her gray eyes immediately flashed back to his own in the mirror, startled at being so quickly caught. She nervously looked away again before she took a step closer and spoke in a lower voice.

"W-well...I was wondering about something."

Given the look in her eyes and the way she quickly shot a nervous glance at the make-up artists and hair stylists bustling around to make sure they weren't listening in, Ichigo immediately knew what she was going to ask.

"Ishida-kun and I have been following this whole...reporter situation. You know they're going to ask you about it over and over again today...right?"

Ichigo set down his coffee and sighed, leaning further toward his director's assistant to keep the conversation private. "Don't worry, Inoue. I may not have been in this industry for very long, but I feel like by now I know what to say and what not to say. I can handle whatever they decide to ask me about it. I'm assuming Uryuu told you the specifics about...all of that."

At his words, Orihime's eyes widened and she leaned away from him, nervously laughing in an exaggerated tone. "Oh, Kurosaki-kun, you're so funny! Why would you just _assume_ Ishida-kun would tell me something like that?"

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow at Orihime's horrible attempt to hide her and Uryuu's rather obvious "secret" relationship. He sighed before reassuring her, "Don't worry, Inoue. I know how to navigate what they'll ask me. The movie will be the only topic of conversation today, I promise."

Just as Ichigo made to grab his coffee again, his head was quickly and aggressively yanked to the side and promptly stuffed into a large, and familiar, bosom.

"What are you two talking about so secretly over here?" An annoyingly familiar and high-pitched voice spoke as Ichigo quickly pushed himself away from the woman currently attempting to smother him in her chest, his eyes flashing murderously at her.

"W-what the _fuck_ Rangiku!? Do you really have to sneak up on me like that every time?" he sputtered.

His rambunctious blonde co-star merely leaned back up and chuckled mercilessly at him. She sauntered over to the chair next to his own and flopped down on it, the stylists and make-up artists flocking toward her to touch up her look. "Oh my sweet, sweet Ichigo. You're too much fun to tease."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed even further and he growled before grabbing his coffee cup, not even paying attention as the liquid gold burned his throat on the way down. "Well how the hell else do you expect me to respond when you greet me by suffocating me in your breasts. I swear I'm surrounded by a bunch of freaks…"

Rangiku Matsumoto responded by merely chuckling lightly at him before checking her make-up and hair in the mirror, not a single care in the world. "You know, Orihime has a point, right? Are you _sure_ you're ready for all the questions about that little reporter you're banging?"

Ichigo nearly crushed the coffee cup in his hands at her words.

"I-I am _not-_ "

"I will say, I am disappointed in you, Ichigo," Rangiku continued, paying no attention to her co-star's vehement protests. "I thought for sure we'd sleep together before you decided to go off and fuck a tabloid journalist."

Ichigo knew Matsumoto was just teasing him like normal, but the direction of the conversation had him angrily standing to his feet, shaking aside the stylists. His eyes flashed to his co-star's before narrowing at the immense amount of _glee_ on her face from his reaction.

"All of you people need to get your story straight before making assumptions. Christ, you're as bad as the media with that shit. Nothing is going on between me and some random reporter. If you want the full story, talk to Uryuu, but don't keep pissing me off with all of that."

Rangiku's smile turned sinister as she listened to his angry words. "My, my, Ichigo. You're being _awfully_ defensive right now. I was only joking. You act as though you're trying to hide something…"

The knowing look she flashed him only made Ichigo angrier. Without another word, he stomped away, ignoring Orihime's worried questions and Rangiku's merciless laughter.

It was going to be a long few weeks if already he was under this much scrutiny from not just the media, but the people he worked with too. It seemed no one was willing to let him off the hook. He tossed his half-finished coffee in the trash as he made his way to where the interview was going to be held, anxious to get this hellish day over with before it even began.

* * *

The exhausted movie star slammed the door to his expensive sports car and sluggishly moved toward the elevator of his apartment building's parking garage. The day had completely drained any amount of energy out of his body and he was more grateful than ever to finally be home. He had gone through an entire day of annoying co-stars, pointed questions, and one too many camera flashes. He was more than ready to unwind, ignoring the fact that it would only get worse for him in the coming weeks.

He thought back to one of the day's many interviews, that had really gone just like the rest of them had.

" _I know we're here to talk about the new movie, Mr. Kurosaki, but you_ must _tell us what happened with that reporter in your apartment a few days ago. The media has been absolutely abuzz!"_

No shit, _Ichigo thought bitterly to himself._

_Plastering on his most humble, yet charming smile, he answered with well-rehearsed words, "Yeah, it was a pretty crazy situation, but thankfully she's alright now. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time."_

" _We saw that you took her out to lunch too! Anything going on you'd like to tell us about?"_

_Ichigo nearly cringed at the suggestive look the interviewer was flashing him. "No, no...nothing to report. I just wanted to make sure she was really okay after everything happened."_

" _From the pictures we saw, it almost looked as though she was giving you the cold shoulder. What can you tell us about that?"_

And on and on the questioning had gone. Ichigo was certainly not a novice in this particular field, but having to constantly justify his actions to not make them seem like a big deal while also leaving a bit of mystery to keep the media guessing was exhausting.

The lengthy day nearly had his fingers itching toward his phone to call Asako up for a little bit of extracurricular activity.

Just as he was making his way toward the elevator, a peculiar sight caught Ichigo's eyes and his footsteps froze in place. It was hard not to miss it, considering this building housed some of the wealthiest people in Tokyo. With its chipped paint and boxy frame, the old sedan certainly stood out in the row of expensive vehicles.

Ichigo stood looking at the run-down car (knowing _exactly_ who it belonged to) for far too long before he sighed and walked over to the decrepit pile of metal. He observed the car's many imperfections before his eyes caught on a small bunny charm hanging from the rearview mirror and piles of old notes littering the backseat.

" _This isn't a fucking joke to me. My cut of the money isn't going toward extra beach vacations and a new Lamborghini. It's going to pay my rent, my insurance, the gas for my shitty beat up car. It's going to hopefully get me to the place where I can finally say this entire experience is actually worth something. That me being here pretending to give a shit about you is actually going to get me to a job and a career and a life that I actually want. But sure, go ahead and have your little fun. It's not like you need this to actually work. Not like me."_

He promised himself he would stop thinking about her. And yet, here he was overcome with guilt once more. This was all far too convoluted.

Ichigo heaved a long sigh. "Goddammit," he muttered under his breath before he pulled out his phone and began calling a familiar number.

* * *

Rukia Kuchiki stuffed her hands further into the pockets of her jacket and cursed her fate once more that she was forced to walk home from work in this weather. It wasn't like it was too terribly cold outside, but the wind blowing past her face made her shiver as she fought against the chill.

It had been a strange past few days. She had gone back to work Monday morning with the same uncertainty she'd been having since the whole Ichigo Kurosaki thing had happened. Urahara _still_ hadn't addressed everything yet, which couldn't possibly mean anything good. She just knew that once he was done scheming, she would be in for it. She already dreaded the day he'd finally let her in on his plans.

In addition to that, her random run-in with Renji had been on her mind for far too long. She didn't like to dwell that much on the people from her past, but she was finding it hard not too. Renji's warning about her older brother was constantly at the back of her mind. She knew how it would look to have her name attached to this whole situation, but she didn't think Byakuya would send his lackey out so quickly. Having to deal with the two of them was just one more piece of wood to add to the bonfire that was her life at the moment.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of an incessant horn honking in her direction. She stopped and turned curiously toward the street, one of her eyebrows immediately lifting at the sight of an expensive black sports car in such a run-down part of town.

An expensive, distinctly _familiar,_ black sports car.

Rolling her eyes, she merely turned back in the direction she was walking and continued along. The car honked a few more times before she heard it slowly following her path, thanks to the decidedly empty streets at this time of night.

She listened as the window of the car was rolled down and a familiar voice called out to her. "Hey, Kuchiki! It's me."

She scoffed and continued walking, not caring about how absurd this must look to anyone passing by. "I figured as much. Not many people with Jaguars rolling around this part of town."

"Would you stop and listen to me before I wreck my car?" Ichigo Kurosaki's annoyed voice continued on.

"It would serve you right. I'm over here just minding my own business…"

Even given the fact that he was driving a car on the street and she was strolling down the sidewalk, she still heard his frustrated sigh. "Get in the car, already. I need to talk to you about something."

At this, Rukia's steps finally came to a stop as she turned toward the orange-haired man in the car. She watched in satisfaction as he slammed on the brakes at her sudden stop, before he pulled over to the curb.

"You know I was always taught it's bad to get in a car with a stranger," she eventually told him, her expression making it obvious how over this surprise meeting she was already.

"Am I a stranger to you?"

"About as strange as anyone else."

"Come on, Kuchiki. Just get in the car. I have something to show you," Ichigo spoke, his patience dwindling before her eyes.

"If it's your dick, I'm not interested," Rukia responded, delighting in the look of pure disdain radiating from her orange-haired companion.

It was silent a moment as Ichigo attempted to contain his growing anger at her usual antics. Eventually, his face twisted into a more confident expression before he retaliated. "You know, if you plan on always using sarcasm as a weapon, you might want to think of a better strategy. I invented that coping mechanism, sweetheart."

Rukia couldn't help the scoff that escaped her lips "Yeah, you seem _real_ jaded to me."

"You clearly don't know the real me, then."

"Kind of difficult for me to considering you've been acting in almost every interaction we've had."

Ichigo sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He clearly was as done with her as she already was with him. "Look, I know I haven't exactly given you a lot of reasons to trust me, but I'm serious. I wanted to make up for how I acted at lunch the other day, and I figured this was the best way to do it."

His explanation had Rukia's eyes narrowed warily at him. "What does that mean?"

Ichigo Kurosaki didn't back down as his heated amber eyes met hers. "Get in the car and you'll find out."

Rukia weighed her options for a split second before she begrudgingly walked toward the passenger door and yanked it open. She knew this was probably a dumb idea, but her curiosity combined with the strange amount of sincerity in Ichigo's gaze had her going along with whatever he was doing.

They drove in silence for a while, Rukia feeling decidedly out of place sitting on the cushy leather seat and admiring the state-of-the-art interior. Only after realizing the cold chill was gone from her body did she take the time to notice the seat warmer setting turned on.

_Seat warmers. Should've known._

Rukia's eyes widened as the unfamiliar streets become a touch more recognizable. Only after Ichigo Kurosaki finally turned into the parking garage of his building did Rukia turn accusatory eyes on the man sitting next to her.

"You know, when I said I wasn't interested in seeing your dick, I wasn't lying."

She watched as an infuriating smirk took up residence on his face before he replied. "Relax. We're only going as far as the garage."

Rukia had no idea what the hell _that_ meant, so she stayed silent as her movie star companion parked his car and casually got out. She followed him, her eyes still narrowed murderously in his direction, tempting him to try something on her now.

Instead of walking toward the elevator, he led her toward another part of the garage, all the way up to a very familiar sight. When they stopped in front of it, Rukia turned her exasperated expression on the orange-haired man at her side. "You brought me all this way to show me my shitty car?"

"Your shitty _repaired_ car," Ichigo corrected, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his jeans. When he didn't explain further and Rukia's frustration only grew, he rolled his eyes and continued. "I remember you telling the cops the other night that you got stuck here because your car broke down. I called up a friend of mine and he took a look at it. He had to replace almost the entire interior, and while it may still look like shit, he assures me it should run like new."

Rukia was silent for a moment, unsure what to make of his explanation. Before she could attempt to string a sentence together, Ichigo kept talking. "Look, I know I acted like an ass the other day. You have no reason to trust what I say, but I can tell you one thing: we're not as different as you think we are. You assume I was born with all of this, but I had to work my ass off to pay bills and buy food too. I understand what this means for you. I know how important it is. I guess this is just my way of promising that I won't waste any more of your time."

Rukia's mouth sputtered and her eyes widened at his mini-speech. She really didn't know what she was expecting from him when she got in his car, but this was certainly the farthest thing down on the list. She shook her head and finally managed to say the first thing that came to her mind.

"I...you...how much did this cost?"

Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know, a lot. Does that really matter?"

"Y-yeah it matters! I would've never been able to afford something like this on my own."

Ichigo sighed. "Well, now you don't have to."

Rukia let out a frustrated noise at his flippant statement. "You ignorant ass, were you not listening to me the other day? I'm trying to make it on my own. How am I supposed to do that if random rich guys are paying to fix my car?"

Ichigo scoffed. "Come on, Kuchiki. You hear stories all the time about people getting random donations that cover the cost of something they thought they wouldn't be able to afford. Call it an act of generosity and walk away." Just as Rukia was about ready to fire back at that comment, Ichigo surprised her by quickly grabbing one of her hands. He spread her fingers, placed something metal in the palm, and then closed her hand into a fist. With one final annoying smirk, he turned and walked away.

She had just enough brain power left to call out desperately after him. "I-I'm going to pay you back!"

"No you won't," he answered in a shockingly bored tone. "See you around, Kuchiki," he finished with one last casual wave. Rukia's eyes narrowed decisively at his retreating form.

She must've stood stewing in her anger for a solid five minutes before she remembered the thing Ichigo had placed in her hand. When she opened it, her eyes widened at the sight of her car key resting there. She didn't even want to think about how Ichigo had gotten his hands on it, but she was too busy wondering curiously at the addition of a small strawberry keychain (that looked quite similar to the Chappy charm hanging from her rearview mirror) to care.

" _I guess this is just my way of promising that I won't waste any more of your time."_

Her eyes went back to the direction Ichigo had left, finding him nowhere in sight. As much as she wanted to grumble and complain, she couldn't deny how... _thoughtful_ of a thing it was to do. She certainly hoped he wasn't lying about wasting her time. If they were going to do this, they had to do it together...and she had a lot more to lose than he did.

Without another thought, Rukia sighed and unlocked the car, turning the key in the ignition and marvelling at the sound of the brand new engine. Just as she was about to pull out of the garage, a thought hit her like a brick in the face when she realized she wasn't enveloped in the usual chill she got everytime she was in her car.

 _Bastard...he even fixed the damn heater_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow curiously at his table partner as she, for probably the fifth time since they started eating, stuffed a piece of sashimi in her mouth, gave a little noise of pleasure at the taste, and did a strange version of a happy dance. She didn't give a single care to the plethora of wide eyes staring at them in the quaint little sushi place she had picked out. She merely continued picking through the giant platter she had forced him to order.

Once she did her little dance for now the _sixth_ time, Ichigo set down his chopsticks and asked the inevitable question. "What exactly _is_ that?"

Rukia paused with the piece of fish at her lips and flashed him a curious look. "What's what?"

"That little...thing you keep doing after you take a bite," he explained, demonstrating with his own warped version of her shake.

Understanding crossed her face before she shrugged and took another bite. "What? This shit is tasty. Sometimes you can't resist doing a little happy dance," she replied with her mouth full, overexaggerating her dance this time for added effect.

Ichigo's eyebrows rose even more at that. "You're aware normal people don't dance as they eat, right?"

"What evidence do you have that I'm normal?" was her simplistic response.

Ichigo scoffed in reply. "Fair point."

Rukia shrugged again and continued eating. "You know, a lot of people would call it cute."

"Of all the words I would use to describe you, 'cute' definitely wouldn't be on the list."

A swift kick under the table to his shins was her response to that. His eyes bugged and he sputtered, "W-what the hell was that!?"

Her face twisted into an expression of pure innocence and he bristled at the tone of her voice. "Oh, I'm sorry, _Kurosaki-kun_. I guess my foot just slipped."

Only his years of acting experience prevented the snarl that wanted to emerge at her own act. He settled for picking up his chopsticks and continuing to eat while she gloated from the other side of the table.

It was silent for a while as they ate their lunch before Rukia's face turned inquisitive and she spoke up. "You know, there something that's been bothering me."

The veteran movie star braced himself for this conversation. "What?" he asked.

Rukia stuffed another piece of sashimi in her mouth before she began, bits of fish sputtering out while Ichigo pretended to not be disgusted. "You seem to know all this shit about me, but I feel like I haven't gotten the same opportunity for you."

"What do you mean? If you thought your own google search was too revealing, try doing it for me. My entire life is on some internet page somewhere."

He watched as Rukia shook her head and continued. "No, no, that's not what I'm talking about. I can find out the basics, but I still feel like I don't know you the way you know me."

Ichigo sighed and decided to humor her for now. "Alright...what are you dying to find out?"

"Well…how did you even get into acting, Mr. Hometown-Boy-Born-and-Raised-In-Karakura-Town?"

Ichigo couldn't help the small chuckle that emerged at her words. "So you _have_ been googling me."

"I might have poked around a bit."

He simply shook his head at that reply and answered. "I've always loved acting. I'm sure you can find it on some website somewhere that I was in the drama club in high school. I originally went to college to become a doctor, but opportunities for auditions kept popping up and I took them. I got pretty lucky to get where I am today."

Rukia nodded her head, but said nothing as she pondered this response. She seemed to consider how this affected the way she viewed him before she continued on. "So not all blood, sweat, and tears then?"

Immediately Ichigo knew what she really meant by the question, referencing what he had told her the last time they had met up in his parking garage. "There was plenty of blood, sweat, and tears, but I'm not too proud to acknowledge the good fortune I was given. I worked hard to get here, but that doesn't mean I'm any less grateful for the opportunities I've had."

Rukia scoffed. "You're aware I'm not _actually_ interviewing you right now, right?"

Not able to help himself, Ichigo let a sly smile cross his face as he answered her. "I only wish my actual interviewers asked me stuff like this."

At that, Rukia merely rolled her eyes and continued on, her chopsticks picking through whatever was left of their meal. "What about your family?"

Ichigo stilled, lifting an eyebrow at the question. "What do you mean?"

Not missing a beat, Rukia spoke, "Well, you know my family is stuck-up and rich and hates my guts. If we're going to keep this information sharing equal, I think it's fair that I should know about yours. I read somewhere you grew up with your dad and two sisters. They still around?"

Ichigo pondered the actual logic of her reasoning before he sighed and decided to give her what she wanted. He figured this basic information wouldn't hurt him in the long run for her to know. "They're still back in Karakura. Yuzu and Karin are in college and my dad runs the same family practice he has since I was a kid."

"Hmm. That's surprising."

"What is?" Ichigo asked curiously.

Rukia shrugged her shoulders. "You just always struck me as someone who considers family more important than anything else. I'm actually shocked they're not with you in Tokyo."

The movie star couldn't help but lift a curious eyebrow again at her appraisal of him. He figured this was what had led her to journalism. He'd only had a few interactions with her, but he could tell she had a distinct knack for reading people well, and had a natural and curious course with her questioning. If she hadn't gotten stuck in the tabloid industry, she could've made one hell of a journalist.

Ichigo smiled slightly. "I hate not seeing them all the time, but I'd feel worse if I dragged them into this life. None of them would do well in an environment like this. It's better they're somewhere quiet, where people can't constantly hound them about me."

"You mean people _don't_ constantly ask them about you in little ole' Karakura Town?"

A scoff escaped his lips at her continued intuitiveness. "Oh rest assured, I'm still the talk of the town, but that's different. The neighbors asking about my newest movie on their way to school is a bit different than being accosted by cameras and tape recorders every time they step out the door."

"Fair point," she answered with a simple tip of her head, repeating his earlier statement.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes as Ichigo set his chopsticks down in satisfaction after a good meal, and Rukia mindlessly moved around the last dregs of their platter. Without even looking back up at him, she spoke again, "You know, there's something that's always bothered me about you celebrities."

He stayed silent as she continued on. "I've never met a famous person who doesn't hate always being the center of attention when it comes to media, but...that logic has always surprised me. I mean, the whole point of being an actor or an entertainer is being the center of attention. Some of you fall into the role, but most of you _choose_ this. And yet, somehow the _media_ is always the big bad for doing what your job makes us do. Tell me how that makes sense," she finished, her striking violet eyes finally meeting his across the table.

Ichigo continued to say nothing as more words seemed to form in her mind. "I get that paparazzi and other reporters take shit too far. Trust me, I have plenty of firsthand experience with the extra douchebags. I work with a good number of them." Here, the tiny woman paused to roll her eyes, seemingly thinking of exact names of people she knew were trouble. "But that doesn't change the fact that we all go to work every day in some run down office building and sit in some shitty cubicle that feels like a prison with a creep of a boss breathing down our necks trying to make us do stuff we don't really want to do. I didn't have as much of a choice in this job as you did. Acting is similar to journalism in that sense. Plenty run-of-the-mill actors have to work terrible jobs they hate in an attempt to make their way up the ladder. It's no different for us. You think I _want_ to work for _Tokyo Digest_? You think I really _want_ to be invading people's privacy for stupid details on dating and sex and scandals that literally mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? I do this because it's what I have to do."

Rukia sat back a bit in her seat and her face changed as she seemed to realize how much of a rant her simple question had turned into. She shook her head as she spoke again, "Jesus, that all came out at once. I don't know what it is about you that always makes me go into rant mode."

Ichigo's entire body relaxed at that statement. He had been about ready to get into it again with her at her presumptions about his career and what he thought about her. He certainly wasn't an idiot. When he'd first seen her in his parking garage a few weeks ago he'd been angry and said things he really didn't mean. He was a rational enough man to understand that she had gotten herself into all these situations because she dared to have a dream. He could respect that much about her, even if her job still put him on edge.

He gave her a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. You aren't the first person to get fired up around me. I've always attracted as many fights as I have attention. Maybe it's my hair…" he pondered jokingly.

He was pleased to see her scoff before she rolled her eyes and attempted to diminish the smile that wanted to emerge.

Placing a few large bills down on the table, he grabbed his coat and motioned for her to follow him. "Come on, you'll be late for your shitty job if we sit here and keep talking about this."

Seeming to realize that it was, in fact, almost one on a workday, Rukia reached for her phone to double check the time, then subsequently groaned as she picked up her own coat. "Goddammit you're right. Well, here goes nothing."

They made their way out of the quaint restaurant with every eye in the room still following them. Ichigo was beginning to become impressed at how quickly Rukia was learning to ignore all the attention. He figured she had to have some experience given how she was raised but still, it was pretty insane how easily she had adjusted.

"You sure you don't want a ride?" he offered again once they were outside, already knowing what her answer would be, but figuring he would still be the gentleman and ask.

"Positive. I can handle those assholes on my own," she said indicating behind her shoulder to the group of paparazzi photographing their every move. Ichigo was a bit skeptical at her confidence, but he didn't offer any further argument.

"Alright then. A pleasure as always, Rukia Kuchiki."

She rolled her eyes at his clear sarcasm well disguised with a genuine tone. "Yeah, right back at you, Ichigo Kurosaki."

And with a small wave, she was off in the direction of her office building. Ichigo lingered for a few moments, watching her step away, figuring the media would interpret his expression as longing and wistful, before he turned and walked in the direction of his car.

* * *

Rukia stuffed her hands further in the pockets of her jacket as she tried to ignore the many clicks of the cameras going off around her.

She was grateful they weren't invading her personal space, but she was still sick of the constant presence. Even given this whole deal with Ichigo Kurosaki, she hardly thought she was interesting enough for this level of scrutiny. Why half these pricks weren't going after Ichigo himself was beyond her.

As she reached for her headphones, a familiar head of spiky hair flashed through her vision and she rolled her eyes. "What the hell are you doing, Hisagi?"

A sigh was her answer as her coworker lowered his camera and started to walk in step with her. "Come on, Kuchiki, do I still have to explain myself? Whether you like it or not, you're still a huge story."

"Why the hell aren't you following Ichigo, then?"

"You see what he drives? Like hell I'd ever be able to follow that thing."

 _Bastard_ , Rukia thought bitterly. She didn't even consider the shelter his sports car offered him. Maybe she should start taking him up on his offers for rides.

Hisagi's voice brought her back to the present. "Even so, I actually do have to tell you something."

She stayed silent as she waited for her annoying coworker to continue. "Urahara wanted me to tell you to come to his office when you get back to work. Said he has something important to talk about."

These words caused Rukia's steps to quickly halt in the middle of the sidewalk, the last stragglers of paparazzi nearly running into each other at the sudden movement. The frazzled reporter let out a groan. "You've got to be kidding me. Why does he have to choose today of all fucking days?" Rukia rubbed at her temples to abate the rapidly growing headache. This was _just_ what she needed. "Ugh, fine. Thanks for the heads up, I guess."

"No problem," was Hisagi's simple reply before he raised his camera again for more shots. Not even caring how it would look, she whacked her coworker upside the head and dashed away as everyone looked on in surprise. She didn't want to waste her negative energy on any of them.

Not when it seemed like Urahara was finally coming for her blood. She could only guess what would be said once she finally got back to her office.

* * *

She tiptoed near Urahara's office at the end of the hall on her floor, having just dumped all her stuff at her cubicle desk after giving herself the biggest internal pep talk she could muster. She inwardly groaned as she got closer. She had _not_ been looking forward to this particular conversation, only able to guess what her boss had in store for her now.

Unable to put off the impromptu meeting any longer, Rukia heaved a long sigh before she tapped her hand on the decaying wood of the door, waiting for her boss's usual chirpy 'Come in!'. She entered the room with slow steps as dread filled her stomach. She'd been ready to release all her stress on her over ambitious boss as she closed the door behind her, before her eyes actually took survey of the room.

When they caught sight on an occupant that wasn't her creepy boss, they nearly bugged out of her head.

"N-Nanao!?"

The prim-looking woman was seated in one of the chairs facing Urahara's desk, her legs crossed like a lady and her expression one of pure steel. She looked as though she'd rather be anywhere in that moment besides where she currently was.

 _That makes two of us at least_.

"Hello, Ms. Kuchiki. I would say it's nice to see you again, but given the circumstances…" she trailed off, shooting a rather surprising glare at the blonde man who looked _beside_ himself with joy.

"Yeesh, so much hostility already. I haven't even _gotten_ into the meat of why you're both here. Come have a seat, Ms. Kuchiki. We have _much_ to discuss," Urahara called in a sing-song voice, beckoning the wary reporter forward.

She approached cautiously, her eyes narrowing into a glare the likes of which she had never mustered before. "What the hell are you up to now, you creep?"

Urahara clicked his tongue. "Now, now, Rukia, there's no need to be like that. You both are here for the same reason. I believe we can all come together for the best possible outcome."

Rukia lifted an eyebrow as she sat down before she turned to Nanao. "Do you know what this is about?"

The other woman sighed and crossed her arms. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Trust me, the office of an infamous tabloid editor is the last place I'd ever find myself under normal circumstances."

Urahara's smile was sly at this. "And yet, here you are. You see, Ms. Kuchiki, the three of us all have a common goal. One that involves a certain widely popular movie star."

_Of course it does. It always involves that orange-haired prick._

"How much do you know?" she asked, throwing all caution to the wind. It would've been foolish of her, with all of Kisuke Urahara's notoriety, to assume he knew nothing of the deal.

Urahara chuckled. "Most everything. Nanao here, under threat of me revealing the whole ruse to everyone I know in the media, has graciously filled in the missing details."

Rukia let her eyes drift to the other woman, who was attempting to remain neutral, even though the tiny tabloid reporter could easily see her hands clenched hard against her arms and her tense jaw. ' _Graciously' my ass,_ she thought bitterly to herself. She was sure the last thing Nanao wanted Urahara to know was the details of their agreement.

"So what exactly is it that you want, _Kisuke_?" Nanao asked, spitting her boss's name bitterly. She could already tell how much Urahara's reputation put people like the other woman (who was in charge of someone as important as Ichigo Kurosaki) on edge.

Urahara folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them, eyeing the two women in his office gleefully. "A compromise. Or rather, a fair trade. You can go on all you want and use my employee to rake in more money. I merely ask for my appropriate share of the deal...in exchange for my expert help."

Rukia was about to fire back a smart response to that before Nanao beat her to it. "Expert help? Just what exactly do you think you can add?"

"Are you _so_ certain this plan of yours is even going to work? You really thought you could get by with Rukia and Ichigo Kurosaki merely appearing together frequently enough so people notice? Please, I've been in this industry long enough to know how it works. Already, people are growing bored. If nothing changes, no one's going to care. But...if you were to add the appropriate star-crossed lovers, movie-esque plot line...that's when you'll truly find success."

Nanao narrowed her eyes dangerously, but she said nothing as Kisuke continued. "Nevermind the fact that Rukia agreeing to this is already a massive violation of her contract with me, I would've been inclined to get involved solely from the lack of proper planning. You want to really hook the media in? There's no one better than me to get you the results you want."

Rukia could tell, as her eyes darted from her boss to Ichigo Kurosaki's assistant, that Nanao was beginning to see the truth of the creepy man's words. Rukia knew as soon as she saw the other woman in his office that they weren't going to get away without him being involved, seeing as how he clearly already knew enough to be able to spill the beans entirely if they didn't cooperate. It looked as though Nanao was beginning to realize the same thing.

"So what exactly do you have in mind? I won't be inclined to form any agreement if you don't put all your cards on the table right away."

Urahara chuckled. Rukia hated to see how much he was enjoying this. "Smart woman. Well, aside from my secrecy, if you agree to what I'm proposing I can help you form the perfect backstory for Ichigo and Rukia's young love."

Not liking how she had been seemingly shut out of this conversation, Rukia nearly gagged at the idea of her and the movie star even pretending to be "in love". "You see, now that paparazzi are beginning to follow my Rukia-chan, it's not been easy for her to get assignments. She's been frightfully bored with nothing to do...right, Rukia?"

The young reporter merely crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes in response, letting her boss smile gleefully and continue on. "And, since it would look bad for me, as her boss, not to think of something, I can use this new, strange relationship with a celebrity to my advantage.

"Rukia is a hard-hitting journalist. One who absolutely despises working where she does, unable to truly interview and form stories the way she wants."

Rukia could feel Nanao's curious eyes on her, but she stayed as quiet as stone.

"So...here is what I propose. Held back in her actual job, Rukia approaches both her boss and this new strange celebrity who seems to like spending time with her to do a story. One on the intricacies of the film industry. She'll have the chance to interview not only celebrities like Mr. Kurosaki, but the ones behind the camera as well. I'm sure Ichigo knows plenty of people much like yourself, Ms. Ise, who help form his image into what it is."

Similarly to Rukia, Nanao barely acknowledged Urahara's words, choosing instead to let her murderous glare do the talking for her.

"In an attempt to get the best story, Ichigo Kurosaki will invite her into his life unlike anyone has before. It'll start with simple visits to his movie sets or media days. Talks with his directors, assistants, hell, even the kid who grabs the coffee. She can spend months working on the project. It will give her the proper excuse not only for the media...but for everyone outside of Ichigo Kurosaki's close bubble of friends. As she works and spends more time with the movie star...love blossoms until it's ready to burst. Then you can announce that they're in a relationship. Trust me, the media will eat this up far better than if you just stuck the two of them in a room a few times and let it be."

It was silent as Urahara finished his envisioned plan and let the two women ruminate on it. Nanao tilted her head and tapped a finger against her arm as she thought of the specifics. Rukia didn't even know what to think. She certainly liked the idea of having a purpose for the first time in a while (even if it was only for the sake of some outlandish plan), but she wasn't quite sure how well it would work. She could already tell Ichigo Kurosaki wouldn't be too happy about being forced to let her into parts of his life he normally kept hidden. She could tell Nanao was thinking as much as she silently pondered the idea.

"So...in exchange for your secrecy and your help...what are you asking for?" the other woman finally spoke.

"A decent cut of the money. I understand you and my employee have already agreed on a set percentage. I don't think she'd appreciate me taking anything out of hers, so I can only assume Ichigo Kurosaki himself wouldn't mind the tiny chunk out of his own massive pay cut."

Nanao's eyes narrowed even further, but she probably had been expecting him to say as much. Kisuke Urahara sure as hell wouldn't participate out of his own good will. Rukia was certain the man didn't have a genuine cell in his body.

The silence continued on for a while longer before Ichigo's assistant sighed. "You're certain you can make this work?" was all she asked.

Urahara's eyes became even more sly as he answered her. "Absolutely."

"And you're aware of the legal repercussions if you even _attempt_ to use this to damage my boss's reputation?"

"Absolutely," he repeated, this time in a much more serious voice than he had been using before.

Nanao sighed. "As much as I hate to admit, you have a point. Your promise of secrecy alone is enough to go along with what you've designed. I know your reputation well enough to understand what would happen if we didn't agree."

Urahara smirked.

"So I'll say yes. But I will have lawyers involved as soon as possible to decide on official cuts. I want this to be as by-the-books as possible."

"Of course," Rukia's boss conceded, with a small tip of his head.

Nanao gathered her things to leave, no doubt itching to be gone from the tabloid's offices as soon as possible, before Urahara finally turned to Rukia.

"And Ms. Kuchiki," he began, addressing her mute form for the first time in a while. "Your secrecy and cooperation is important too. I understand you'll be paid well for this, but I think something else will have you cooperating with the _both_ of us."

Rukia watched with suspicious eyes as Urahara procured a simple business card, before he laid it on the desk in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked quietly as she picked the small piece of paper up.

"The contact information for the Chief Editor of the _Tokyo_ _Times_."

Rukia's mouth nearly fell to the floor.

"This plan going smoothly requires equal participation from everyone. I know I haven't exactly made this job easy on you, so this is my way of rewarding your hard work in the future. Jushiro Ukitake is an old acquaintance of mine. If all of this goes successfully, and you do your part for as long as it's needed...I'll arrange for you to meet with him about a reporter position."

Rukia could not attempt to hide the shell-shocked look from her face if she even tried. She could practically feel Nanao's curious gaze on her, but she didn't care.

"Y-you...You better not be bullshitting me, Urahara." The _Times_ was her dream job, and it was certainly unheard of for anyone under thirty to even be considered for as much as a coffee-grabbing intern there. To have such an opportunity present itself at this point in her career...it was unheard of. Rukia would be stupid to refuse.

But she also understood what her boss was asking for. He wouldn't give her what she wanted until this whole thing had been _finished_. She was already in it for the money, but to be guaranteed the opportunity of a lifetime in addition to that? Rukia was now ready to fight tooth and nail for this to work and Kisuke Urahara damn well knew it.

 _Why the bastard didn't become a mob boss or some shit is beyond me. He knows_ exactly _what to use as leverage for everyone who steps through his door._

"I can guarantee that...at least this time, I am being completely serious." And his expression said as much as both he and Nanao waited for her response. She looked down at the business card one more time before steeling her resolve and fixing a determined look on her boss.

"I'm in."

* * *

"He said _what_!?" were the angry and startled words out of her orange-haired partner-in-crime as Nanao related everything from their afternoon conversation with Kisuke Urahara.

Rukia tried not to look like a fish out of water once more as she gazed at the wealth dripping off the walls of Ichigo Kurosaki's lavish apartment. Nanao had practically dragged her back here to discuss everything once Urahara had finished with the both of them. Sure, she had grown up in a wealthy family, but Byakuya Kuchiki's traditional Japanese mansion was a different kind of abundance than this place. Jesus, his living room window was two stories for Christ's sake! Who needs that much of a view?

She turned her attention back to where Nanao was attempting to calm her irate boss down after revealing the change of plans. "You heard me the first time, Ichigo. Kisuke Urahara thinks it will work better if we do it this way. And, as much as I hate to admit that the man knows anything, he _is_ an expert in this particular field."

"How does he even fucking know?" Here, Ichigo's amber eyes turned to where Rukia stood out like a sore thumb from her place at a nearby glass table. "Did _you_ tell him?"

The accusation had Rukia meeting the orange-haired man's fierce eyes with a sharp glare of her own. "Oh please. I hate that prick as much as you guys do. I would've had no reason to tell him."

"No...Urahara told me he got the information from a friend of his who apparently gathers her own intel on the side. Not to mention the fact that you both weren't exactly doing the best job of hiding it," Nanao spoke, her hands on her hips.

Ichigo straightened up at this and closed his eyes, seemingly trying to keep as calm as possible in his frazzled state. He breathed through his nose a few more times before turning back to his assistant. "Do you really think we can trust him?"

Nanao scoffed. "Of course not. Which is why I plan on getting a full legal team involved. We're not going to be stupid about this, Ichigo. We can follow his plan as much as he wants, but we will always remain vigilant."

Rukia lazily let her head rest on her hand as she rolled her eyes. She couldn't figure out why everyone was taking this so goddamn seriously. Since when had this little idea turned into a full blown ordeal?

"I can't even fucking believe this. I _told_ everyone this was a stupid idea, but no one ever listens to me."

Rukia couldn't help but lift an eyebrow at that statement. She hadn't been around when the idea had been proposed to the movie star and she hadn't yet gotten the chance to ask him how he really felt. She figured this was the best indication of his opinion she'd get. She wondered how much he'd fought against it before he eventually agreed.

"But think about it, Ichigo. Urahara may be shady, but, as I said earlier, he knows what he's doing with stuff like this. I do believe this altered plan will work even better and when it does...the pay out will be glorious for all of us."

Finally deciding to butt herself back into the conversation, Rukia let out a disgruntled noise before adding, "Yeah, because you guys _really_ seem to need the money." As both Nanao and Ichigo's eyes turned back toward her, she made a little motion with her hand to indicate the extravagant penthouse she had somehow found herself back in.

The other occupants of the apartment merely shook their heads at her sarcastic comment before turning back toward each other. "We'll make it work, Ichigo. Let me work on the logistics for a bit and then we'll form a better plan. You just focus on the premier coming up."

Ichigo scoffed. "Great, thanks for reminding me about that. I feel _so_ much better now," he spoke sarcastically, causing Nanao's eyes to narrow.

Eventually, the prim-looking woman sighed and grabbed her purse from a nearby table. "We can talk more about all of this tomorrow. For now, I need to get home. My uncle is spending the week with me and I need to get back before he invites another group of women over," she spoke with a grimace, shaking her head at the thought of what sounded like a frequent occurrence. "Don't forget to look over your itinerary for the next few days, Ichigo."

"Yeah, yeah," he answered in a put-upon tone as Nanao flashed him one last look and left through the front door without another word. The silence the penthouse was thrust into reminded Rukia of the last time she'd been left alone here with Ichigo Kurosaki. She resisted the temptation to fidget nervously in her chair.

He turned back toward her and the emotion behind his deep amber eyes made the reporter even more uncomfortable than she was already. "Don't look at me like that. None of this is my fault."

Ichigo leaned against the other end of the table she sat at, giving her a perfect view of the tense muscles of his forearms indicating his current stress level. He was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt and pajama bottoms, apparently having been getting ready for bed when she and Nanao burst through the door. "I'd argue against that, seeing as how you're the one who started all of this to begin with."

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "Oh, yeah, my bad for nearly getting _attacked_. I'll try to limit the amount of psycho rapists dragging me into dark allies in the future in an attempt to inconvenience you less."

The sarcasm dripping from her words had Ichigo's eyes narrowing even further, limiting her view of what she considered one of his best features. "If you hadn't been in the garage in the first place, none of this would've happened!"

"Didn't you hear what I said at lunch today? It's not like I _wanted_ to be there! It's not like I want to do any of this. I do it because I _fucking have to_."

Her heated words seemed to halt whatever his next response was going to be. He continued to glare daggers at her before he took a few more calming breaths and stood to his full height, her eyes following him dangerously as he moved.

"I take it since you came with Nanao, your car is still back at your office?"

The sudden shift of his demeanor was startling, but Rukia tried not to let it affect her too much. She nodded her head, but didn't dull the angry glare she was throwing back at him.

He sighed and nodded his head as he thought of his options. "I can take you over there then. Give me a few minutes to change," he spoke decisively, not even waiting for Rukia to claim she could get back to her office on her own (despite the fact that it was on the opposite side of town from where she currently was). He merely turned and walked down a nearby hallway which no doubt led back to his bedroom.

Rukia huffed as she was left alone. All of this was so stupid. She still couldn't even believe it was real. Now with Urahara being involved, the headache of what she was doing was only going to get worse. She stood to grab her coat and her bag from the chair she'd placed them on, but was distracted by a loud buzzing noise coming from her side.

She looked over to where a pristine smartphone was resting on a side table by one of the couches. Initially, she ignored it. There was no reason for her to care that Ichigo's phone was going off. But, after the stupid thing loudly buzzed for probably the tenth time in the span of a few short minutes, she finally let out an annoyed noise and went to go silence it.

She told herself that it was more genuine human curiosity rather than malicious intent that stopped her as the notifications from the text messages coming into the phone revealed, at least partially, what was being said. Rukia couldn't help the slight raise of an eyebrow as she read the contact. The name "Asako" accompanied by a little heart emoji flashed back at her as yet another message came to the phone. She really couldn't help herself as she read the first few lines of each message.

The first in the long line read a simple, " _Hey, what are you up to tonight?"._

The next was from a few minutes later and asked again what the movie star was doing and if he was busy. Rukia's eyes widened further as the messages became more and more...aggressive.

" _Why the hell have you been ignoring me?"_

" _I just wanted to have a little fun."_

" _Excuse me for misinterpreting what we were doing."_

" _Fine, if you don't want anything to do with me I'll find someone else."_

Rukia's mouth almost dropped as yet another message came in, this time accompanied by a picture.

" _Just know that this is what you're missing_."

Honestly, no one could really _blame_ her for opening the picture, especially after everything she had just seen. It was just natural curiosity! She was innocent, even as she took a quick glance around to make sure she was alone before swiping right on the phone and pulling the line of text messages up. _Bastard's asking for it not having a passcode on his damn phone_.

When she scrolled down to find the picture, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and her hand quickly flew to her mouth to stifle the merciless laughter that was spilling forth.

This "Asako" chick was certainly more than a mere acquaintance of Ichigo Kurosaki's, if the photo of her wearing scandalous lingerie and flashing him a sexy look through the camera was anything to go off of. Rukia nearly whistled through her teeth at the body this random woman was sporting. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Ichigo Kurosaki, when he wasn't publicly acting, didn't tend to behave much like the stereotypical idea of an attractive, single movie star she had in her mind. Sure, he had the expensive car and the lavish apartment, but the more time she spent with him, the more she was realizing he really was a hometown boy behind it all.

But, he also had gorgeous women sending him sexts on a weekday night, begging to sleep with him. He might fluff up the family man appearance when talking to her, but he certainly still had that bad boy edge to him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

The familiar and frightfully angry voice startled Rukia so much that the phone was flung from her hands before it landed haphazardly on the ground. She swiveled in place and met Ichigo's fierce and downright _shocked_ face as he looked like a bull ready to charge. He had changed out of his night clothes into a simple and comfortable outfit, his coat in hand, no doubt ready to take her home. She suspected he hadn't been expecting to find her, a known _tabloid journalist,_ looking through his phone.

She couldn't even form a proper defense as he advanced on her, knowing how bad it looked.

He quickly walked to where the phone now lay, bending to pick it up and get a look at what she'd been snooping through. When his eyes caught sight of the picture Asako sent him, his angry glare only intensified as he turned back toward her.

Rukia took a cautious step back as he moved closer to her. "I-I didn't mean to...your phone was going off a bunch...I-I was just silencing it!"

He continued to get closer to her, looking as though he wasn't buying a word of what she was saying.

Rukia continued to try and clear her name. "Y-you're the one who doesn't lock his phone! If you're so worried about keeping your personal life secret, you should know better than that."

The slightly frightened reporter felt the distinctive hard edge of the nearby wall behind her back as Ichigo took a few more decisive steps until he was towering over her, completely blocking her in. She tried one last vain attempt. "I promise I won't say anything."

Ichigo's eyes flashed again, but he attempted to rein in the majority of his anger to a low and deadly simmer. He leaned closer to her. "How the hell am I supposed to believe you after everything?"

She tried to put his encroaching proximity out of her mind. "It's true! Didn't we just discuss what I have to lose with all of this? I'm not like the rest of my co-workers, always itching for a story."

With a deadly silence, Ichigo lifted an arm and placed his hand firmly beside her head against the wall. He leaned in even more and Rukia could practically feel the sweat beginning to form on her forehead. "Are you sure?" was his low question.

"Yes!" she answered defiantly. "I don't give a shit who you decide to sleep with. Fuck every woman in Tokyo and see if I care."

She didn't realize it at the time, but her words caused an idea to pop up in Ichigo Kurosaki's mind. It was a dangerous idea, but it was one he knew would warn her into submission so something like this would never happen again.

She could feel it as his entire demeanor... _shifted_.

His voice was still low and his face was dangerously close to her own, but his quietly contained anger morphed into a strange kind of...curiosity. It startled Rukia enough to keep her listening.

"No? You're saying you have absolutely zero interest in who I choose to fuck?"

His amber eyes darkened further and immediately Rukia looked away from them as she realized just what emotion Ichigo's anger had shifted into.

"Yes," she answered, attempting to keep her voice strong. "You're a grown ass man. You have money and fame. It's not surprising you have women blowing up your phone with sexy pictures. That's nothing to write home about."

"It's not?" Again with the quiet curiosity, and Rukia could still not figure out what the hell he was doing.

But Ichigo was not done. Not by a long shot.

When Rukia shook her head, Ichigo leaned in even further and the young reporter couldn't help but tense up. "So...what if I fucked you?"

Immediately the raven-haired woman's eyes widened in shock and she couldn't help but let them drift back toward Ichigo's. "W-what?"

"If you're so convinced of what you know about who I choose to sleep with...what would happen if I slept with you?"

A flash of anger passed through Rukia's body and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Please...that's never going to happen."

Ichigo's smirk was downright _evil_.

"You seem rather sure of that."

"I'm sure of it because it's true. I'm _not_ going to sleep with you, just like I'm _not_ going to tell anyone about who you actually do sleep with."

"But what if that doesn't happen? What if one day you just...can't contain yourself."

Rukia didn't even know which part he was referring to.

Attempting to lead this conversation more in the direction he wanted to, Ichigo continued on before she could even reply. "Unless you're just not used to that particular territory. I'm not one to judge."

His encroaching form and the dangerously sweet scent of him was unnerving her more than it already had, but the implications of what he'd just said was not lost on her. She managed to cross her arms in the constricted space and looked to the side. "Please, I'm far from a novice when it comes to stuff like that."

Ichigo curiously lifted an eyebrow and his devilish smirk only grew. "Oh really? So the prim and proper Kuchiki heiress had a little bit of fun in college?"

Rukia worked very hard to prevent the heat that wanted to bloom across her cheeks. "Probably more than just a _little_ ," she quietly conceded before the gravity of this conversation hit her once more and she turned heated eyes back to the orange-haired movie star currently towering over her. "Not that this is any of your business!"

Here, Ichigo's eyes turned from seductive teasing to a slightly more harsh and accusatory form. "Oh...so your sex life is none of my business but mine somehow is yours?"

Having come to the distinct realization of what, exactly, Ichigo Kurosaki was doing here, Rukia attempted to harden her gaze even further. "T-that's not what I-"

Ichigo slammed his other hand to the wall by her face, fully caging her in, and the small reporter couldn't help the deer caught in the headlights look that emerged on her face. "Weren't you the one who said there should be equal information sharing on both sides? Explain to me how any of this is fair?"

As his face got even closer to her own, Rukia finally steeled her resolve and dropped her surprised expression for one of pure annoyance. "Alright, you've made your point. You finished with this little act now?"

At her words, immediately Ichigo's entire predatory demeanor dropped. He lazily let his hands drop and stepped about a foot away from her, a victorious smirk on his face. "Watch yourself, Kuchiki. Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm going to completely trust you. Pull another stunt like that and we'll be reevaluating this agreement of ours."

Rukia's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But you better learn to watch yourself too, _Kurosaki_ ," she spoke, putting an extra emphasis on his last name. "It's not my fault you leave revealing information around like that for the taking. If you make it too easy, you can't blame me for not resisting."

His eyes flashed, but he said nothing as he silently conceded to her words. They both were going to be on edge from now on, understanding the level of the stakes far better than they had before. The tension mounted as the silence continued.

Eventually, Ichigo let his shoulders sag as he attempted to calm himself down after...whatever the hell that was. His eyes went to the giant, two-story window that took up the majority of his living room and he frowned. He silently walked over to grab his coat and car keys, Rukia's eyes dangerously watching him as he moved.

"Come on, I'll take you to your car now."

A protest was immediately on her lips. "I can walk-"

He didn't even let her finish. "It's after dark, it's cold, and it's _raining_. Not even tabloid reporters deserve to walk all the way home in this weather."

Rukia continued to narrow her eyes at the derogatory way he spoke, but she had to admit he had a point as her own gaze drifted to where tiny droplets were still splattering against the glass of the large window. She crossed her arms in defiance and made sure her voice sound as annoyed as she felt. "Fine," she offered tersely. She watched as Ichigo shrugged on his own jacket, waited for her to do the same and then, once it was obvious she would continue to angrily stand in the middle of his spacious living room, sighed and grabbed her coat from where it still lay on the table. He wordlessly stuffed it into her hands before turning and leaving the apartment without another word.

Rukia could merely grunt before shrugging her jacket on and following him out the door.

* * *

Something was wrong with Ichigo Kurosaki.

Rukia could've certainly gathered that after their little scuffle at his apartment, but no, there was something... _else_ that was bothering the orange-haired movie star, and Rukia was beginning to think it had nothing to do with what happened a short while ago.

She let her eyes drift over to where he sat in the driver's seat, both hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel of his expensive black car. His muscles were tense, all the way from his arms up to his jaw, where Rukia could clearly see the effects of his gritted teeth. His normally fiery amber eyes were fixed on the dark roads in front of them, doing their best not to reveal his discomfort, but to the well-trained reporter it was obvious.

He was frightfully upset about something. Rukia just had no idea what that something could be.

She shook her head as she attempted to get her mind off him. She shouldn't care if something was bugging him. She didn't need to worry about anything outside of the paycheck she was guaranteed at the end of all this. She pulled her phone back out to absentmindedly have something to do as he drove her through the rain-soaked streets of Tokyo after dark.

The strained silence continued in the car as it slowed to a stop behind a pretty significant traffic jam. Flashing lights up ahead indicated a possible accident as the cause of the delay.

"Goddammit," Ichigo suddenly let out under his breath. Rukia looked at him out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way his hands fidgeted on the wheel. "I hate it when it rains. Everyone loses their ability to drive."

In some half-assed attempt to get him to calm down from whatever was messing with him, Rukia shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever, it's not like we're in a hurry."

Although Rukia was certainly ready to be home and away from _him,_ even though she wasn't going to say as much.

Ichigo sighed and continued fidgeting in his seat, his fingers restlessly tapping on the steering wheel as they inched forward. Rukia merely rolled her eyes and let her attention fall back to whatever social media app she had open on her phone. She just needed to ignore him if he was going to act like a big baby.

They continued to move forward at a snail's pace, getting closer to where the emergency vehicles had congregated. It must have been quite the accident to slow down traffic this badly. It looked as though they were only letting cars around one at a time.

Rukia tried to focus on her phone when suddenly their car came to a distinctive halt.

This wouldn't have been cause for alarm considering they had been stuck in stop and go traffic for the last twenty minutes, but the sound of a whistle blowing from the policeman directing the cars had the reporter's head shooting up in surprise.

From the front of the car, Rukia could just make out the man wearing a light reflecting coat waving at them to continue moving, even though the car stood decisively in place. "Ichigo," she began in annoyance as her eyes drifted over to her driver. "What are you waiting for? Let's-,"

Immediately her words stopped and her eyes widened.

If she hadn't realized something was wrong with Ichigo before, she _certainly_ could tell now.

His hands were still gripping the steering wheel of the car and his muscles were as tense as they were before, but it was the expression on his face and the distinctly pale color to his skin that gave Rukia pause. His eyes weren't looking ahead of them to the policeman still whistling away, but were turned to his left, looking at something out the driver's side window. Rukia attempted to look around his frozen form to understand just what the hell had him so clearly spooked, when her eyes caught sight of what he was so fixated on and her stomach immediately churned.

Even though it was difficult to see through the rain-soaked glass, Rukia could still make out a crumpled car resting on its roof. Multiple emergency workers were swarmed around the vehicle, no doubt looking for its passengers. It wasn't hard to see, though. The small reporter could just make out a limp body hanging out the driver's side window, blood pooling around it. The long hair and delicate frame indicated the victim was probably a woman.

Rukia's face paled almost as much as Ichigo's when her eyes also found that of a small boy, probably no older than nine or ten, hunched over on the ground, reaching for the woman despite multiple people holding him back.

He was crying...and _screaming_.

Rukia immediately looked away and tried to get the unsettling image out of her head. Now she could understand why Ichigo had been so fixated. "Come on, let's go," she spoke decisively, trying to shake her head against what she had seen. "No point in dwelling on stuff like that."

A horn honked from behind them and the police officer in front began tapping on the hood as he whistled, but still they did not move. Eventually, Rukia let her eyes fall back to Ichigo's, even though she didn't want to, and she spoke again. "Ichigo! Let's go."

Despite her rough tone, the movie star's entire form was as still as a statue. Rukia widened her eyes as Ichigo began to shake, his breathing increasing at a rapid pace. She reached over and pulled on his arm, in an attempt to get him to take his eyes off the scene, but not even that could get him to move.

Rukia watched helplessly as Ichigo Kurosaki began to have a full-blown panic attack.

"Hey!" a muffled shout sounded from outside the car. The police officer walked up to the side window as more horns went off from behind. Just as he was about to indicate for Ichigo to lower the window (or _move_ ) the form of the other man blocked the movie star's vision, which at least seemed to help snap him into action. Still breathing shallowly, Ichigo's shaking hands turned the wheel of the car, and it jerked away from the scene. But, instead of driving away, he merely pulled over to the other side of the road, out of the immediate way of traffic but still no farther than they had been before.

Rukia watched with progressively widening eyes as Ichigo parked the car haphazardly and began to reach for the buckle of his seat belt. She attempted to worriedly call to him as his hands were shaking so much he could hardly get himself free. She reached for him in a vain attempt to stop his frantic movements, but he had already gotten himself out of the car, the door wide open behind him.

"Ichigo!" she called desperately again. Just as he was hobbling back into the line of traffic, Rukia finally reached to unbuckle her own seatbelt as she frantically get out of the car. The cold rain immediately soaked through to her bones and she fought off the chill that wanted to wrack through her body as she ran to where Ichigo was blocking the line of cars once more.

The headlights were blinding as she ran to her companion. Just as she got to him, the orange-haired man collapsed to his knees in the middle of the road. His body hunched over as he just attempted to breathe properly.

"I-Ichigo," she spoke desperately as she kneeled down beside him. Her hands reached for the sleeves of his shirt, but he didn't even seem to notice she was there. "Hey...Ichigo! Snap out of it!" she shouted over the sound of the rain falling on them.

She watched in shock as Ichigo's eyes glazed over before they closed tight in an expression similar to that of someone in physical pain. His breaths came out quickly and she just managed to catch the sound of a word passing through his lips. She didn't get exactly what he said the first time, but strained to hear as he continued.

" _Mom…"_ was his heart-wrenching plea, and it immediately stilled Rukia's entire form. Without meaning to, her eyes drifted back across the street to the accident...to the boy screaming the same thing mere feet away.

Understanding flooded Rukia all at once and her shoulders slumped. She stilled as she realized she had just discovered something about Ichigo Kurosaki she never wanted to know.

 _Just his dad and his two sisters_. _I wonder what happened to his mom,_ was what she had thought earlier that same day at lunch. She hadn't spoken the question before because she figured it was too personal. She was realizing now with startling clarity how right she had been.

Knowing she wasn't going to get him to move by just shouting at him, Rukia did something she never anticipated she ever would do to Ichigo Kurosaki.

She shucked her jacket off her shoulders, ignoring the frightful chill, and raised her tiny arms to lift the piece of clothing over both their hunched bodies. She leaned in closer to the movie star's shaking form and said the only thing that could come to mind.

"It's okay...You're okay...That's all in the past... _everything is going to be alright."_

At the combination of her words and the missing sensation of rain falling on his face, Ichigo's violent shaking stopped. He slowly lowered his hands from where they had grabbed the sides of his face just to keep himself grounded before he sat up and looked back at her.

The emotion behind his amber eyes completely took her breath away.

Gone was the commotion of the emergency crews running around and the cars honking at them to move. She barely even registered the feeling of her rain-soaked clothes as they clung to her body. She could only see the desperation behind Ichigo Kurosaki's eyes.

Startling her even further, he delicately lifted his hand to cup one of her cheeks, his eyes softening more than she even thought possible. His breathing was still fast, but calmed almost immediately as he looked at her. Her eyes remained wide in shock as he spoke in a quiet voice.

" _Rukia."_

There was a melody to the sound she hadn't quite been expecting. The pair sat like that, the entire world diminishing around them.

For a quiet, _terrifying_ , moment...it was just her and him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

" _Rukia_."

The moment ended as quickly as it started when a loud honking noise sounded from just behind them. Rukia looked around just in time to see a large truck screeching to a stop in the rain, it's driver yelling curse words out the window.

Shaken enough into action, Rukia pulled on Ichigo's arm again, and this time he did comply as she quickly ushered them off the road. Not knowing what else to do as more traffic continued to accumulate, Rukia sat a frozen Ichigo down on a bench near the sidewalk and ran to go move his car over to the curb.

When she got back, she approached the orange-haired man cautiously. Ichigo's eyes were staring out into space and he was shivering. His face, once full of desperation and panic, looked _defeated_. She couldn't even help the small twinge on her heart, despite whatever previous opinion she had of him. Thankfully the bench had a small overhang above it, so they were both out of the immediate force of the rain still steadily falling, but their clothes were soaked through and their bodies shook from the cold. Rukia wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the horrific sensation and attempted to get Ichigo to look at her.

"A-Are you okay? Here, you can have this," she spoke weakly, placing the jacket she had been using as a makeshift umbrella around his shoulders. She continued to assess him, not having any idea how she could help as the words flew from her mouth. "Do you want me to call someone? Nanao? Jesus...you look like you're getting sick. I can drive you home if you want. I don't think you should be behind the wheel of anything right now."

Her words abruptly stopped as Ichigo finally moved in his catatonic state, quietly removing the jacket from his shoulders and shaking his head.

Rukia's eyes widened as he finally spoke, his voice no louder than a whisper. "No...no, just...just leave."

"What? I can't leave you here. Not when you're like this," she immediately protested.

His eyes closed in yet another expression of pain. He looked as though he was struggling to just get words out. "Please...just...go away."

Finally, his eyes turned back toward her and any other words Rukia could have tried to say were stopped at the tip of her tongue. His amber eyes were staring into hers meaningfully, portraying everything he couldn't possibly say with words. He didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He was hurting...so much so that he needed to just be alone. He didn't want to have to rely on her, even when she was offering the help.

Rukia couldn't possibly protest any further.

She stood back up and nodded her head in defeat. She picked the jacket up from where he had placed it beside him and silently walked back to his car. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and reached over to Ichigo's cell phone resting in a cup holder. She scrolled through the contacts on his phone and dialed the only person she could think to call.

She had just managed to get him off the bench and into the back seat of his car in the tense twenty minutes that followed her call. She was practically freezing to death standing underneath the overhang, but even though Ichigo's warm car beckoned her forth, she wasn't going to get back in. Not after the look he gave her.

Finally, a black SUV pulled up to the curb next to her and Nanao plus one of Ichigo's bodyguards got out, both holding large umbrellas. His assistant quickly walked up to where Rukia stood, sparing a glance at the car where Ichigo mutely sat. "What happened?" she worriedly asked.

The small reporter shook her head as she thought of how she would answer. "I'm not really sure. One minute we were driving by an accident, the next he was just mindlessly walking into the road. I'm not even going to try to figure out what spooked him so bad...though I have a guess."

She watched as Nanao's eyes drifted across the street, where the mangled car still laid, the boy and his mom having already been taken away by ambulance. The other woman's eyes widened a fraction before a grim expression took up residence on her face. Rukia could tell she knew more about his past than she'd ever let on.

"I see," was her somber reply.

Rukia heaved a long sigh. "Look...just make sure you get him home safely. And have someone watching him if you can...just for tonight. I don't think he should be alone." Against her will, Rukia's eyes drifted back to look at the movie star through the window of his car. It was still unnerving her more than it should to see him in such a state.

Nanao flashed her a strange look, no doubt wondering at the amount of concern for someone Rukia had always seemed so hostile toward. A question was at the tip of her tongue, but Rukia answered her before she could voice it.

"I would do it, but...I don't think he wants to be around me right now."

At this, Nanao's eyes again turned back to her famous boss and she nodded solemnly, understanding exactly what the reporter was trying to convey. The older woman could've been a top journalist too with the way she was able to read people.

"I'll make sure someone stays with him. Are you planning on going home now?"

Picking up her drenched coat and heaving her book bag onto her shoulder, Rukia nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to need to bathe in boiling water to get rid of this chill."

"I can take you to your car," Nanao offered, but immediately Rukia shook her head.

"Nah, I'll just take the train."

"It's freezing out-" Nanao tried to protest, assessing Rukia's soaking wet clothes and the way her teeth clattered against each other.

"I'll be fine. Trust me, he should be your priority now," she spoke with finality, turning on her heel so as not to give Ichigo's assistant more time to argue. It was stupid to walk even to a train station in this weather, but Rukia didn't really care. She had become numb to the sensation as her mind was swimming with the past hour's events. That unnerving feeling had yet to leave her and she wondered if it ever would. She had a feeling she wouldn't be seeing Ichigo Kurosaki for a while, and she'd no doubt be picturing his pained face constantly from now on.

As Rukia walked, not giving another look back to where Nanao was directing Ichigo's bodyguards to take him back to his home and watch him for the night, she hugged her arms tighter around her midsection to ward out the cold and welcomed the icy droplets as they fell on her face.

She didn't even know _what_ she was going to do now.

* * *

Rukia tapped her fingers mindlessly against the chipped, fake wood of her desk as she scrolled through _Tokyo Digest's_ website. The sun had long since set and the tabloid's office was devoid of most people, save the cleaning crew and herself. She chanced a glance out of one of the large room's windows and sighed as she watched the flurry of snow. It had finally gotten cold enough that the rain was now falling down as a light powder. Despite the relatively cozy atmosphere, Rukia still felt as though there was a rock stuck in the pit of her stomach.

She shook her head as she wondered why she was even still here. Ruminating on these thoughts had only made things worse lately. She should know better than to stew in her own negativity.

Still, as the tabloid reporter clicked through more photos from Ichigo Kurosaki's most recent movie's glamorous red carpet premiere, she couldn't even find it in herself to get up.

It had been over three weeks since the incident in the street. And three weeks since she'd even _seen_ Ichigo Kurosaki.

Urahara had called her into his office the other day, wondering how her little "story" was going. When she told him the truth (that she hadn't even started), he'd merely tilted his head and curiously asked her why. The last thing Rukia was going to tell her boss was what happened that night Ichigo had tried taking her home, so she made up some excuse about him being too busy with the release of his newest movie.

She knew her boss didn't buy it, but he thankfully hadn't asked more questions.

Rukia had simply felt...off now knowing something so deeply personal about the movie star she was forced to call a conspirator. As she had suspected, she hadn't been able to get his godawful expression out of her head once these last few weeks. She was starting to wonder if he'd end up calling this whole thing off and she wouldn't ever see him again.

She was starting to think of that as the best option, too.

But no, she thought with an inward sigh, as much as she didn't want to admit it, she still needed the rich prick. While Ichigo had been busy being his usual dashing, famous self, Rukia had been handed one hellish nightmare after another the last three weeks.

It had started with a simple text message she'd gotten a few days after that night in the street. She still fumed when she thought about it. Renji had taken the time to figure out her new cell phone number and messaged her a reminder of her brother's warning. She suspected it had been at the command of Byakuya himself, but that didn't serve to lower her anger at all.

_Hey, Rukia. I know things are tense right now, but if you come back soon Byakuya is willing to forgive a lot of this mess. He'd rather do that than let this keep going. I really do think this is your best option._

She had snarled and nearly threw her phone against the wall when she'd gotten it, before she promptly blocked the number and tried to keep her mind off of her brother and her ex-best friend. She still didn't know why this bothered them so much. Her supposedly "messing around" with Ichigo Kurosaki was hardly that big of a ding against the pristine Kuchiki name. Why couldn't they just fuck off and leave her alone?

She knew why, but she didn't want to stop and actually admit it.

Then, to add onto the slew of fuckery that was her life at the moment, her landlord had just _casually_ increased her rent prices, citing some stupid loophole in her contract she didn't have the money or the time to fight against. On top of that, she'd had to fight off a nasty cold after being rained on that was only now beginning to go away.

Needless to say it'd been a hellish few weeks for Rukia.

That still didn't stop her from thinking of how Ichigo had been doing during this time. She tried not to care, but sheer curiosity won out in the end. Even now, she was staying far too late at work looking at his premiere pictures, wondering how a man appearing so self-assured and confident had been a shaking mess only a short while ago.

He really was one hell of an actor.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes before closing out of the website and shutting her computer down. This was stupid of her. Clearly, Ichigo Kurosaki would approach her when he was ready. He knew she still existed, he just had to get over whatever bad feelings he'd been hanging on to and try and keep this little thing of theirs going. There was no point in her waiting around for him.

She shoved on her winter coat and picked up her bookbag mindlessly. She left through the empty office building and had to suppress a shudder when she stepped outside into the cold. The snow continued to fall, but she attempted to ignore it. She had always liked the winter growing up, having been born in the middle of it, but right now it was just another nuisance to think about it. One of the train lines had been down because of the weather, so the usual garage Rukia liked to park in had been full. She turned to walk down the street to make it to where she had been forced to park her car.

When she finally approached the sketchy sidestreet that had been the only thing available that morning, her eyes lifted to find her run-down sedan before they nearly bugged out of her head.

 _You have got to be_ shitting _me._

"No," Rukia whispered in shock as she ran up to her car. "No, no, no, NO. Are you kidding? Fuck!" she shouted in anger and desperation as she approached her mutilated vehicle. Her shitty sedan sat immobile against the curb, all four tires missing and the driver's side window smashed in.

Not knowing what else to do, Rukia grabbed the sides of her head in an attempt to abate the rapidly growing emotional breakdown.

Of course. Of-fucking-COURSE. After everything she'd been through it only seemed right the universe would add this on top. As the anger rose, Rukia kicked a pile of snow and watched in satisfaction as the white flakes blew away in the wind. She tried to stop the stinging from forming behind her eyes, but it was all becoming too much.

First Renji, then her landlord, then her fucking immune system, now THIS!? And it really didn't even stop there. There was Ichigo, Urahara, Nanao, her brother, and just about everyone else in her life that seemed to have some sort of vendetta against her. Why couldn't anything be easy? Sure, she knew it would be hard when she left her brother but _this_!? This was just plain cruel.

"Have you had your fun now!?" She shouted up into the sky, not even caring how much of a lunatic she looked like right now. The corners of her eyes started to collect tears, but she blinked them away. "Are you done with me? What the fuck else are you going to throw in my way? Just smite me down now if you hate me that much!" She didn't even know who the hell she was addressing at this point. She was just sick...so goddamn _sick_ of all the shit she'd been handed over the last few months. All she had wanted to do was be a goddamn journalist! Was that really asking so much!?

In one last act of frustration, Rukia let out a loud grunt before she sunk down into a crouch on the sidewalk. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and tried to focus on not sobbing like a pathetic loser. She really didn't understand how her life had come to this. She continued to wonder where she had gone wrong.

As she continued her private pity party, she only barely registered the sound of a car rolling up before it stopped. She didn't even look up when she heard a door open and close before footsteps crunched through the snow to approach her. If it was some sort of mugger, she'd welcome the distraction. Better they stole her shit and then knocked her unconscious to help ease some of the pain.

She let out a small sniffle before she heard a distinctly familiar sigh as the person finally stopped at her crouched form.

"Looks like you need a ride," a familiar, smooth voice spoke, causing Rukia's eyes to widen and her head to whip up.

She had to strain her neck considering how abnormally tall the person was, but the orange hair gave him away immediately.

She merely scowled and lowered her head again, hugging herself into more of a ball. "What the hell are you doing here? Come to laugh at my misery?"

Ichigo Kurosaki sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his designer coat. "Well, I was going to try and catch you after work, but then you took forever to leave so I settled for driving around a few times to find your car. Wasn't expecting to see you like this."

It was striking how casual he sounded. Rukia scowled further before she finally slumped into a seated position on the snow covered sidewalk, not even caring about the water soaking into her jeans. "Yeah, well, enjoy the view. If my life wasn't enough of a shit show already, here, have this," she spoke sarcastically as she motioned to her dilapidated car.

The movie star quickly looked in the direction she indicated before he let out another sigh. "Do you want me to call the police?"

Rukia scoffed. "Hell no. There's nothing they can do at this point. Besides, it's better this piece of shit is just left here. I never should have bought it in the first place." She didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Ichigo tilted his head. "Probably." A beat passed before he nonchalantly turned on his heel and walked back to his expensive car. "Come on. You'll catch another cold if you just keep sitting there."

Rukia didn't even have time to question his use of the word, 'another' before he was getting into the driver's side of his car. The downtrodden reporter hesitated for a fraction of a second before she let out a sigh of her own, grabbed her bookbag and stood to her feet, shaking off the accumulated snow from her jeans.

When she climbed into the passenger seat of the familiar vehicle, the flood of warmth from the running heater was a welcome relief, even given the set of circumstances. She let out a satisfied noise as Ichigo smirked and reached over to turn on her seat warmer.

She waited a few moments, relishing in the newfound heat and expecting Ichigo to turn his car back onto the main road, but they remained parked on the curb. Eventually, Rukia lifted an eyebrow and turned toward the orange-haired actor sitting beside her. "You actually going to take me home or are we going to sit and kumbaya here in the street?"

She watched as Ichigo closed his eyes in mild frustration before he let his hands fall from where they had sat frozen on his steering wheel. She took the time to actually get a good look at his face and realized he was struggling to find words. "We'll go in a minute I just...I need to say something first."

As realization washed over her, she immediately turned to look back out the front windshield and spoke in a quieter tone. "You don't need to say anything."

She wasn't looking to see if her astute understanding of what he was trying to convey surprised him or not. "No," was his firm counter. "I do need to say this."

He seemed determined, so even though Rukia knew this wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation, she remained silent nonetheless.

He sighed and continued. "Look, I know I haven't been the nicest to you since we first met. When everyone expects one personality from you, it's hard to revert back, even if it's not who you truly are."

It wasn't exactly what she was expecting him to say, but she tried to keep her expression neutral, her eyes never straying from the light snowfall outside the car.

"I don't want you to think I'm just a royal prick. I should have approached you earlier than this. You deserve an explanation for...what happened that night."

Rukia tried to butt in again to tell him that she _really_ didn't, but he cut her off. "What you saw...that doesn't happen all the time. It freaked me out just as I'm sure it freaked you out. I didn't think I could react that way."

He sighed again, the words seemingly difficult for him to find. Nevertheless, he continued on. "My mom...she died when I was a kid. In a car accident we were in together."

Rukia's stomach roiled at the thought. It wasn't anything she hadn't already figured out, but hearing him admit it just didn't sit well with her.

"It's always been difficult for me. More so than for my sisters and maybe even my dad. I always felt like it was my fault."

Rukia didn't even know how the blame for a car accident could be placed on a child, but the guilt Ichigo no doubt felt was palpable.

"I've never known how to talk about it. As the years go on I kind of just...push it away. When we passed that other accident, I couldn't repress everything fast enough." Another sigh. "That's why I waited so long to apologize. I hope you can understand now why I...why I can't…" he trailed off as the words finally seemed to leave his mind.

The silence that ensued was suffocating. Eventually, Rukia heaved a sigh of her own and shook her head lightly. "You're such an idiot," she eventually whispered.

She could feel as Ichigo's gaze sharply fixed on her. Not shying away, she bravely met his shocked amber eyes.

"I told you. You don't have to tell me anything. You said so yourself, your entire life is on some internet page somewhere. You're allowed to have things that only a few people or maybe even no one knows. I can tell this is really difficult."

Her gaze softened as she quietly added, "Everyone thinks journalists are only capable of asking questions and poking and prodding for stories. But sometimes...sometimes all we need to do is just listen."

Ichigo's eyes widened even further in shock.

"So...when you're ready, I can be here to listen. But I won't ask anything of you until that time."

This time the silence wasn't uncomfortable or tense, but rather calming as a silent understanding passed between them. She could read, clear as day, what he was trying to convey to her through his gaze.

 _Thank you,_ he silently told her.

 _You're welcome,_ she returned.

They sat in their comfortable silence for a while before Ichigo eventually straightened up and shifted his car into gear, smoothly pulling back onto the street. Even though she still had a bit of a chill from her wet jeans, the falling snow outside the warm car began to feel more and more cozy. She watched the scenery of Tokyo pass by as he continued to drive her in silence. She noticed that he hadn't yet asked her address, probably relishing in the quiet of their little shared moment.

Eventually, he broke the silence and spoke, "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

She turned questioning eyes toward him but said nothing as he graced her with a small smile.

"We haven't really done anything with this plan of ours. People are already starting to forget about us."

In a teasing mood given that the tense atmosphere from before had dissipated, Rukia tilted her head and said, "Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

Ichigo's smile turned into an annoying smirk. "Yeah, yeah. I know. That brings up the other reason I tracked you down."

"Oh?"

"Your boss mentioned something about a story, right?"

"Yeah," Rukia spoke with uncertainty as she watched the movie star's grin grow.

"So, I think it's about time you got to work. You can't do a story on my life in the industry if you never see what it is I actually do."

"So what's your plan?" she asked, ready to stop beating around the bush.

"My next movie is already in the early stages of production. I have a bunch of table readings coming up with my director, co-stars, and all the people who help make me into what everyone sees. My next one is tomorrow morning."

"And…" Rukia prodded, although she'd already figured out what he was hinting at.

"So, I offer you to come with me. You can meet a lot of the people I work with frequently and maybe even sit down with some of them for an interview. I can pick you up at your apartment so the paparazzi will see us together again and my co-stars and everyone won't be suspicious when you just show up randomly."

Rukia crossed her arms in her seat, contemplating the offer. She did have to admit it was a good idea. She had to be doing _something_ for Urahara not to continually get on her case, and if it was framed by more people as her just "writing a story" the media would begin to get hooked on the idea again.

"Hmm. I guess so. Though you better not attract a slew of photographers at my place. My landlord has been suspicious enough with the people I've run into over the last few weeks."

She curiously watched as a small look of guilt flashed across his face before it was gone as quickly as it came. "I'll do my best."

The car came to a stop at a red light and Ichigo turned toward her. "You really think this is going to work?" he had the audacity to ask.

A scoff passed through her lips. "Please, it's a little late to be having doubts. If you play your part nicely, I am more than capable of playing mine."

Ichigo tilted his head to concede to her confidence. "Alright," he added with only a hint of hesitation.

They sat in another calm silence at the light before eventually that teasing spark flared up within her and she turned back toward him. "You know I don't live anywhere near this area, right?"

Ichigo didn't even bother to answer her as he rolled his eyes and reached for his phone to pull up the GPS. She merely shook her head at him and they continued on.

Maybe working together wouldn't be... _so_ bad.

* * *

"SHIT, it's cold."

Ichigo let out an ungraceful snort as he watched his reporter partner-in-crime quickly hop into the passenger seat of his car. "Good morning to you too."

Rukia rubbed her frozen hands together in an attempt to get warm. She'd only walked to the end of her block, but that was still enough of a distance to completely take away any sense of heat. She almost regretted making Ichigo wait for her over here, but she had to admit it did cut down on any annoying paparazzi.

Of course, she was sure to encounter a whole slew of them once they got to their final destination, but she was thankful for keeping them away at least up until that point.

"Oh shut up. Not all of us can afford fur-lined coats to get through the winter."

Without asking, Ichigo immediately flipped on the switch for her seat warmer. "What, big brother Byakuya didn't let you keep any of your clothes? Seems kind of cruel."

As he pulled back out onto the road, Rukia answered him, "It was more my decision than his to not take any of my stuff. Only bits and pieces of that wardrobe stuck with me."

"Probably should've kept at least one of the fur-lined coats."

Rukia immediately rolled her eyes. "Right, because that's exactly what a tabloid journalist should show up to work in."

Ichigo didn't have any rebuttal to that, just shrugged and continued driving. At a red light, he reached behind him into the backseat to grab a plastic bag before he deposited it on her lap. "Here, you'll want these for when we get to the studio."

Curiously, Rukia rummaged around to find a brand new spiral notebook and a tape recorder that looked far more expensive than the piece of junk she currently owned. There was even a cute pink pen to accompany the other items.

After taking a quick glance, Rukia flashed her movie star partner a sharp look. "I have _props_ now?"

Another smirk. Why was one expression so goddamn infuriating? "Hey, you want to play a part right? We have to give the media some indication as to why you're even there."

"Seems a bit obvious," she commented as she turned over the recorder in her hands and glanced at the pen. Wait...was that a _Chappy_ design? How did he even know she liked Chappy?

"You of all people should know they'll still latch onto it."

"I suppose."

"I guess I should also warn you. Some of the people I work with on the regular have pretty...eccentric personalities. They'll latch onto you as quickly as the paparazzi."

Rukia eyed him warily. "That doesn't sound too encouraging."

"It'll be fine...for the most part. Just prepare yourself."

Prepare herself for what exactly? She almost voiced the question before she realized it was probably better not to know. When she had been mentally psyching herself up for this whole "project" the night before, she had honestly pictured all the movie people Ichigo worked with as snooty Hollywood types. She figured they would just ignore her or scoff and dare to grace her with a few words for her story. Ichigo was making them sound like a lot of the people _she_ worked with.

Which didn't bode well for her in the slightest.

She kept her thoughts to herself the rest of the way to the artsy district of town where a lot of the major movie and television studios were housed. As they got closer to where Ichigo's next movie was being developed, she could already see a gathered group of photographers. She had fully expected it, but the sheer amount of them (and how close they were to where they had to walk) was a bit daunting.

Ichigo eventually pulled up to the curb and the group began to crowd around. He sighed and turned toward her one last time. "Try not to make any eye contact. You should probably keep your head down and appear...bashful. Maybe even overwhelmed."

Rukia scoffed. "I won't have to fake being overwhelmed."

Ichigo's face softened a bit and she wondered curiously at him. "They look a lot scarier than they are. My bodyguards aren't far away, so the ones that at least have some part of their brains will keep a distance."

"How comforting," Rukia responded sarcastically.

"Come on. We'll make it quick." Before Rukia could offer up any more of her concerns, Ichigo confidently stepped out of the driver's side of the car and made his way around to her door. The flashes began going off in quick succession and the commotion of all the reporters was only partly muffled by her sanctuary inside the car.

She heaved a long sigh and braced herself as Ichigo went to open her door, surprising everyone gathered who figured he'd just dash inside.

The lights were even more blinding as she was revealed and a chorus of startled gasps followed by rapid fire questions erupted among the reporters and photographers. She did as she was told, clutching the notebook, pen, and recorder to her chest and keeping her head down with a sheepish smile on her face. Ichigo didn't offer her a hand out of the car, so she stepped out as he handed his keys to a nearby valet.

He remained right behind her, practically pushing her toward the main doors of the studio. Rukia could hardly even make out the words being thrown at her as cameras were shoved in her face. This was nothing like when she had been mobbed at her apartment or when people had been watching them on their little lunch dates. She had to remember how to simply put one foot in front of the other as the atmosphere became more and more overwhelming.

An insistent hand on the small of her back ushered her the short distance to the doors. She knew the media was about to have a heart attack because of all of this, but she was grateful for Ichigo's steady presence. He clearly was a pro at this and she had to admit, she did have a great deal more respect for him after experiencing it for herself. She didn't know how anyone could do this all the time.

While it may have seemed like ages, they were inside the double doors of the studio building within a few seconds, leaving the antsy media mob behind them. Ichigo's hand instantly left her back and he stepped away from her, leading her through the large building. When she was sure they were out of the vision of the paparazzi, she placed a hand on her chest to feel her beating heart and let out a deep breath.

"Jesus Christ. Is it always like that?"

Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly. "Pretty much. You just have to learn how to tune it out."

"How do you tune out a literal _mob_ like that? Christ, I'm half-blind and my ears are ringing."

They walked up to an elevator and Ichigo pressed the button to ascend the building. His expression was a mixture of amusement and bitterness. "Maybe now you have a better sense of what it feels like on this end. Half your coworkers are out there acting just like them."

The doors to the elevator opened and they stepped inside. The two bodyguards Rukia hadn't even noticed following them stayed on the ground level as they moved up the floors. "Please," she scoffed, "As if I would ever positively associate myself with any of them."

Her orange-haired partner-in-crime stuffed his hands in the pockets of his expensive coat and casually leaned against the wall of the elevator. "Remind me again why you left an incredibly wealthy home and a promising career in business to go work there?"

The look she gave him was ice cold. "Don't even start with that. I ask myself the same question every day."

The elevator dinged as Ichigo smiled again and led her out onto the floor. The building was nice and new, with expansive floors, top-of-the-line technology, and a beautiful view of the Tokyo city skyscape. She followed her famous compatriot as he confidently walked the halls to a room with glass walls and a giant conference table. There were already some people gathered and they all turned expectantly when he opened the door.

"Ah, Kurosaki, you're actually on time for once. That's a surprise," a familiar man with glasses and sleek, black hair said once he eyed them from his place at the head of the table.

"Can it, Uryuu. I've only ever been late a few times."

"A few times too many," was the man's sharp reply. His eyes drifted from Ichigo's form to her own and he lifted an eyebrow. "Since when have we allowed members of the media into our table readings?"

Rukia wouldn't know it, since she hadn't been around for the initial conversations, but Uryuu Ishida's remark made Ichigo inwardly bristle, especially considering the fact that he knew exactly who Rukia was and exactly why she was with him that day. Probably better for appearances that he play dumb, though. Still, she couldn't help but feel affronted at the tone of his statement.

Ichigo rolled his eyes to the ceiling and he spoke in a bored tone, "I already told you, Uryuu. She's here to write a story. She won't be listening to the script reading."

"Just making sure," the well-respected director countered pointedly before his eyes drifted back to his laptop.

"Ignore the spindly prick, Rukia. He decided he was better than everyone in this room when he came out of the womb," was Ichigo's sarcastic comment, and if nerves weren't bubbling up within the reporter at being in the same room as all these famous movie people, she would've cracked a smile at the insult.

The director narrowed his eyes but said nothing as a woman with auburn hair and a kind smile approached them. Rukia briefly remembered her being present at the initial press conference.

"Hello! You must be Rukia Kuchiki. Don't let Mr. Grumpy Pants here startle you. Ichigo already told us you would be here this morning," the woman said as she extended her hand for Rukia to shake. The tabloid reporter returned the greeting, her nerves somewhat dissipated at the other woman's bubbly countenance.

"My name is Orihime Inoue, Mr. Ishida's personal assistant. You won't be allowed into the actual table reading, but I'd be happy to show you around the studio and the offices while we wait."

Rukia couldn't help but return Orihime's bright smile. "Thanks, I'd really appreciate it."

"You'll meet more people later, but I figured Orihime was the perfect point of contact as you work on your story. I'm sure she'd even sit down for an interview, if you ask nicely," Ichigo commented as he walked around Rukia and took his spot at the table, a script already laid out for him.

"Oh, I'd be happy to! When Ichigo told us what you would be writing about, I thought it was so cool! Everyone always sees the glitz and glam, but they never get a sense of what goes on behind the scenes."

Orihime's joyous statement surprised the raven-haired reporter thoroughly, so she could only reply with a weak smile and a nod of her head.

"Come on, let's get you some coffee," Orihime said resolutely as she shocked Rukia even further by looping her arm through her own and pulling her out of the conference room.

Rukia didn't even have a moment to think as Uryuu Ishida's assistant led her through the building like it was her second home, pointing out various spots they used frequently and promising her a more in depth tour of the actual studios later. They eventually ended up in a large kitchen filled to the brim with proper snacks, drinks, and a cafe-style coffee maker. Orihime asked her what she wanted and got to work making them both something.

As the coffee brewed, the kind woman turned toward Rukia expectantly. "I know it's all a bit of a whirlwind, but I think it'll be easy to become more familiar with what we do here. The people in this industry get a bad rap, but we're all really nice. Even Mr. Ishida has a kind heart behind his grumpiness," she spoke with a small giggle.

Sensing the perfect segway into a quality interview, Rukia leaned against the counter and began. "What's it like working with such big names like Uryuu Ishida and Ichigo Kurosaki?"

"Oh, it's actually quite fun! Mr. Ishida keeps me busy and Kurosaki-kun is nice, albeit a bit reserved at times."

 _Kurosaki_ - _kun_? Rukia made a mental note to file the use of the appellation away, since she didn't quite feel like busting out the tape recorder just yet.

She crossed her arms and asked, "I know from other people in the tabloid business that you and Mr. Ishida have worked together for quite some time. I've read that you all have known each other for years."

Orihime's smile was far more warm this time. "It's no secret Kurosaki-kun, Mr. Ishida, and I have been friends for a while. We met in our high school drama club."

_Ah, a backstory. That's even more interesting._

"So I suppose you're all...close?" Rukia couldn't really help the suggestive tone of her question. While she may not have been proud of it, she was still a tabloid reporter, and the rumors about secret relationships (at least between the prolific director and his assistant) were too juicy to pass up.

Orihime seemed to tighten up a bit at the leading question, but answered like a pro. "Well of course. We're friends...we see each other a lot. It's natural."

"So just...friends?"

As soon as the words left Rukia's mouth, Orihime's entire body heaved over and a high-pitched, rather _fake_ sounding laugh burst throughout the room. "Oh Ms. Kuchiki! What are you implying? Mr. Ishida and I are close friends and coworkers. Of course we're...close. Just maybe not the close you tabloid reporters are always asking about."

Rukia lifted any eyebrow at the other woman's boisterously fake laugh.

"And Ichigo Kurosaki?" she asked, attempting to sound innocent.

At this question, Orihime's fake laugh died down and her expression became far more serious. "Oh, no. Kurosaki-kun has always been a good friend. He's far too busy to think about anything...else."

Rukia tilted her head as she watched a strangely cryptic look pass across the other woman's face. She made another mental note and shook aside the conversation. She didn't want to start making enemies by asking so many prying questions so early. "Well, all the same, it's nice that you all get to work so closely together. I'd love to sit down with you while we wait and get some insider info on what exactly it is that you do."

The coffee machine beeped, indicating that their drinks were done and Orihime Inoue instantly perked up. "Oh, of course! Come on, let's go someplace a little more private."

Rukia took her offered drink and followed after the auburn-haired woman as she led her through the building. She was beginning to get the feeling that she was way in over her head but, then again, she supposed that wasn't _all_ that new.

Whatever was going to happen with herself...Ichigo Kurosaki...her job...her brother, it certainly had her on edge. But she was ready for the challenge.

She was Rukia Kuchiki. She didn't back down from anything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

The lens on Rukia's camera clicked for probably the hundredth time as she took photo after photo of her surroundings. She aimlessly walked around the dimly lit studios, moving from one half-put together set to another. She took a few more photos as she passed a pile of random props, laughing at a creepy clown statue no doubt from some horror film sitting next to a group of fake palm trees and a horse saddle.

Her thoughts continued to wander as aimlessly as her steps while she explored. It had been over a week since she'd been coming to Ichigo's studio, meeting various staff members that helped run everything from set design, to costumes, to marketing. Orihime had been good about showing her something new everyday, while still leaving her to interview various people and get a good look at "where the magic happens", as she had put it.

Most of the movie people she'd met weren't...too bad. Ichigo's warning from the first day about some of them having 'eccentric' personalities didn't even seem all that true. Everyone she had talked to was shockingly nice and down to earth. She supposed it helped most of them had jobs right around her level. She sure as hell hadn't been allowed to sit down with any of the producers, directors, or other big entertainment executives, but she kind of liked that. She had a feeling that if this whole 'project' ever actually got to be published somewhere people would read and care about it, hearing the stories of the ones really on the ground level making this industry run would resonate more with the public.

It was still rather surreal, though, being in this atmosphere with these people. Every time she came here with Ichigo, it was a whole event. While the paparazzi may have been getting more used to seeing her come out of Ichigo's car everyday, it didn't stop them from bombarding the pair with questions and camera flashes.

She shook her head as she remembered some of the article titles she had quickly perused through the other day. After three weeks of radio silence while Ichigo's last movie was coming out, the media couldn't make up its mind about why the hell she was showing up around the famous actor again. Most of them had gathered she was writing a story, but the ridiculous speculations many boasted as facts were just absurd.

_If You Thought Ichigo Kurosaki's Mysterious Relationship With Tabloid Journalist Was Over, Think Again!_

_Reporter Ichigo Kurosaki Saved Spotted Out With Him AGAIN!_

_Writing a Story or Falling in Love? Our Investigators Discuss What's Really Going On with Ichigo Kurosaki's New Reporter Pal_

Despite the fact that the blatantly false headlines were exactly what they were trying to achieve, Rukia couldn't stop her stomach from churning every time she read one. This was already becoming the 'fake dating' scheme of a lifetime and she still could not believe how she had gotten roped into it. At the very least she could say her movie star companion wasn't making the experience any worse than it already was. In fact, she hadn't really seen him much the past week or so, aside from when he was picking her up and dropping her off. He hadn't gotten any time to take a break after his last movie release and she could tell he was already hard at work on the next. Dealing with her with just another thing added onto his plate, so he avoided her presence as much as he possibly could.

 _Oh well, less people to get in the way of what I'm doing, the better_.

She continued taking pictures and making some notes in her notebook (with her trusted Chappy the Rabbit pen) before enough time had passed for Orihime to come and find her.

Rukia gave the kind woman a warm smile and followed her out of the main part of the studios to where Ichigo was no doubt waiting for her. The famous director's assistant was quickly becoming her favorite part about this whole project. She knew when she first met her that Orihime Inoue was the kind of person that people couldn't help but love, but she was truly finding out how valuable it was to have someone like her around. Their interview together had been light-hearted, while still informative. Orihime spoke well and fondly of her work in the movie-making industry. Rukia was more convinced now than ever that she and Uryuu Ishida were secretly dating, but the auburn-haired woman never made that seem like it was her entire identity. She was clearly very good at her job and both Mr. Ishida and everyone else working here trusted her to get things done.

Not to mention the fact that she was the most bubbly person Rukia had ever met. She was honestly surprised at how well they got along, considering her own personality completely clashed with the other woman's. Rukia was certainly grateful for more good female company. After leaving her brother and her old life behind, she hadn't done a good job of making many friends. She generally despised everyone at her office, save a select few, and she didn't hang out with anyone from her past so it was rare to have someone like Orihime to talk to. She was truly enjoying getting to know her.

They walked back to where the main entrance was and found Ichigo and his bodyguards waiting for them. Rukia bid a pleasant goodbye to her new friend and stepped closer to the exhausted looking actor. If he wasn't always groomed to look so good, Rukia was sure Ichigo would be sporting the biggest bags under his eyes anyone had seen. His shoulders slumped slightly and he bit back a yawn. Rukia couldn't find it in herself to actually pity him, but she did sympathize somewhat. It had been a hellishly long week for all of them. Thankfully, they could leave the studio a little bit more at ease given that it was a Friday.

They navigated the expected group of paparazzi like old pros as Rukia easily slipped into the passenger seat of Ichigo's plush car. They didn't speak much as he drove her the familiar route to her apartment. She could only guess at how quickly he would crash once he was back at his penthouse.

She said a quick and terse goodbye once they arrived at her home, which he half-heartedly returned before he zoomed off down the street. Rukia sighed and looked up at her run-down apartment building, not really wanting to end her Friday night alone in her tiny place. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and resolutely walked a few blocks down the street to her favorite bar.

She discarded her bulky coat when she entered and warmly greeted the familiar bartender. The place was actually quite crowded and she just managed to squeeze herself into a spot at the bar. She ordered her usual and casually downed the glasses of liquor, all the while mindlessly perusing her phone.

She had been alone for a bit of time before another glass of sake was laid down next to her, this time not by the friendly bartender. The last time she had been approached randomly at this place had been when Renji came to convince her to go back home, so she was wary as she turned to see who was confidently settling themselves next to her with a drink offering.

Despite the relative sketchiness of the situation, she was actually relieved to find a stranger with a pearly white smile instead of a head of spiky red hair. The man quickly introduced himself, offering her up the sake, which against her better judgement, she took. Instead of a cheesy pick-up line, he started off their conversation casually, with a humorous joke that (probably because the alcohol was talking) she genuinely laughed at.

The stranger wasn't conventionally attractive, but he did look well-sculpted underneath his thin t-shirt and had a warm smile that could put anyone at ease. She didn't feel as though he was putting the moves on her so she decided to continue the conversation.

The pair talked for most of the night, throwing back sake like it was water and boisterously laughing at the more ridiculous patrons in the bar. As the night continued on and a light fuzz clouded Rukia's mind, it became quite obvious that the man's intentions when approaching her hadn't just been for some light conversation. His gaze darkened and he scooted even closer to where she sat. She didn't even object when his hand began to lightly brush against her thigh underneath the counter.

Knowing exactly where this was going, Rukia attempted to sound casual as she mentioned her place wasn't far away and they could go 'chat' somewhere quieter. The man, whose name kept escaping her as he had only said it once, was immediately on board. They quickly paid and walked together back to her building, giggling and laughing the whole way.

Rukia had never been a 'one night stand' kind of woman. She didn't judge those that were, but it had never seemed right to her. She had met guys at parties or with groups of friends in college that she had ended up sleeping with, but every time she got to know the person far more than this before she fell into bed with them. Even if that made things more awkward when she inevitably dropped the bomb that she was more interested in sex than any kind of relationship, it still felt more genuine.

So she really had no idea what possessed her to let a total stranger into her apartment late at night, fighting off a sake buzz. She wasn't sure why, as soon as the door closed behind them, she had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed the living daylights out of him. She couldn't figure out why she didn't stop him when he quickly shed her raggy clothes as she made quick work of his.

Perhaps she was just reverting back to her more base desire to find release. The past few months had been absolute hell and it had been ages since she'd had sex. She needed to let go of this tension. She needed to be pleasured, however messily. She needed some reminder that she was still human in the midst of all of this.

That's what she told herself as the pair fell naked onto her rickety bed. As the man who's name she didn't know made her gasp repeatedly with his hasty touches. As he thrust wildly into her and she bucked her hips in an animalistic response. As they both fell over the edge and she tried to convince herself that this wasn't 'dirty' when she very well knew that it was.

They didn't even speak another word to each other before they collapsed on the creaky mattress and fell into a post-sex, drunken sleep.

* * *

The morning after was as awkward as one would expect.

It was painfully obvious both parties weren't interested in exchanging numbers or really ever seeing each other again, so as Rukia's head pounded furiously from her hangover, she clutched the sheet around her naked chest tightly while the unnamed man clumsily gathered his discarded clothes and ushered himself out.

She sighed heavily as she watched him leave, not exactly happy she'd fucked some random stranger from a bar, but not really regretting her choice either. It felt strange, but at the same time she was an attractive woman in her twenties who deserved to let loose every once in a while. A one night stand was hardly a crime.

She slowly got up from her bed, immediately went to her medicine cabinet for some painkillers, and hopped into her shower. She scrubbed vigorously against her skin in a vain attempt to rid herself of the feel of the stranger, but then berated herself for being so paranoid. As far as random men she could've picked up in a bar go, this one wasn't all that bad. He hadn't put the moves on her, but rather talked genuinely and she honestly could say she had a good time with him, despite her previous experiences with guys who bought her drinks. Hell, he'd even been the one to insist on using a damn condom, even though she'd told him she was covered in that aspect. He wasn't a douchebag, he was just someone who gave her a good time and a much-needed orgasm (or two). Where was the harm in that?

She shook herself from these thoughts as she shut the water off and dried herself with a nearby towel. She tried to be as productive as possible the rest of the day, cleaning up what she could in her small space and sitting down at her laptop to add more to her story. As the afternoon came around, she decided to go ahead and be lazy and get a long nap in. It was Saturday after all, and she needed to catch up on her sleep (especially after last night).

When she awoke almost three hours later she couldn't decide whether she felt refreshed or not. She needed the sleep, but long midday naps only ever made her feel groggy. She rubbed her eyes and mindlessly reached for her phone.

When she got a look at her lockscreen, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

Thirteen missed calls, all from a certain movie star's shrill assistant, and one text from the man himself.

She opened the message first as her heart dropped into her stomach.

 _Nanao's ticked as hell at you. As someone who has been in that position one too many times, I'd mentally prepare yourself for the onslaught_.

Wait….what? What the hell did she do now? She knew she wasn't the best at always following people's directions and tended to buck rules more often than not, but as she racked her brain trying to find a reason for Ichigo's assistant and manager to be mad at her, she came up completely blank.

Before her confusion could grow even further, her phone began buzzing and Nanao's contact name flashed across the screen once more. She was certainly wary about answering it, but she knew that the longer she kept ignoring the prim woman, the worse the inevitable fallout would be. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she swiped on the phone to answer.

"Hello?"

"Ugh, _finally!_ What is it with you people and answering your goddamn phone!? I've been trying to contact you for hours, Kuchiki!"

Rukia had to keep her phone away from her ear lest she subject herself to early hearing loss.

"Sorry, I was asleep." It was a simple and rather lame answer, but it's not like she could say anything better, since it actually was true.

"I don't care! This is serious business. I'm _not_ happy with you."

"What the hell did I do?" she asked, trying to convey her genuine confusion over the phone.

"I won't tell you until we're face to face. Honestly, I can't even believe the nerve...you and Ichigo are both idiots!"

 _Okay, true, but_ why _though,_ she thought to herself in disbelief.

"I'm parked outside your apartment building. Get dressed and come out here _immediately_. No objections!"

Rukia's eyes widened and she ran to her window that had a partial view of the street down below. And, sure enough, there was a large, sleek SUV waiting at the curb. Christ, how long had she been there?

Despite Nanao's command, she still attempted to form a protest, but was quickly shut off before the line went dead. Rukia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, feeling the headache beginning to form already. She had no idea what to expect if she actually went down there, but she knew she'd have hell to pay if she didn't.

So, as instructed, she numbly got dressed, grabbed her coat and keys, and exited her apartment. The blast of cold wind that hit her as she left the building and walked up to the ominous looking car had her teeth clattering together. She didn't exactly want to stay outside in these temperatures, but something told her it'd be even more chill in the car.

Steeling herself, she opened the side door and hopped into the vehicle. As expected, Nanao Ise was sat on the other chair in the backseat, her arms crossed and her face as sharp as a knife. Rukia almost gulped at the sight of her, but still settled herself in the seat.

"Driver, go," Nanao quickly commanded the chauffeur in the front. The car moved smoothly out onto the road as Rukia turned questioningly to the woman beside her.

"Where the hell are you taking me this time?"

"To Ichigo's. We have a lot to discuss together." His assistant's voice was as cold as ice, confirming Rukia's earlier suspicions.

"Again? Christ, why are we always going there? Is he really okay with you constantly barging into his house? And what exactly are we going to _discuss_?"

Nanao scoffed. "He doesn't get a choice." She reached into her large purse and pulled something out, before dropping it into Rukia's lap. "And we're _discussing_ this."

The frayed reporter didn't really know what she was going to find when she unfolded what Nanao had given her, but today's edition of _Tokyo Digest_ hadn't been far up the list.

Rukia's mouth nearly dropped to the floor of the car when she read the front page headline and saw the accompanying picture.

_Is Our Favorite Cinderella Story Just a Ruse? Ichigo Kurosaki's Supposed New Love Interest Spotted Taking Another Man Home with Her Last Night!_

Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she continued to read the article in growing horror, attempting to keep her eyes off the grainy picture of her and her one night stand outside her apartment building.

_Uh oh! Have we all been deceived? Just when we thought our favorite rom-com star had finally shed his bachelor title and had fallen for the reporter he saved, a new development arises in the mysterious story! Our very own tabloid journalist, Rukia Kuchiki, who everyone was certain was Ichigo Kurosaki's newest squeeze, was spotted outside her apartment building last night with a strange man. We can't be certain what went on once the pair got inside, but our investigative sources said they didn't see the man come back out until this morning! That could only mean one thing…_

The article continued on, but Rukia's growing nausea prevented her from reading any further. She tried to contain the shock and anger that was flowing through her but it was impossible. Furiously, her eyes looked for which one of her despicable coworkers was responsible for publishing this trash when she caught a glimpse of the perpetrator, her anger growing tenfold.

_Kisuke Urahara himself. I should've known._

"What...what the _fuck_ is this!?" she finally exclaimed, holding the tabloid like it was an old used tissue.

"I don't know, _Kuchiki_ , you tell me," was Nanao's rebuttal and instantly Rukia met the other woman's sharp gaze with an incredulous one of her own.

"T-This is a massive invasion of my privacy!"

Shocking her, Nanao let out a sarcastic bark of laughter. "That's rich coming from someone who works for that very tabloid. More importantly we need to talk about how much of a boneheaded move it was."

"Excuse me?" Rukia countered, her anger continuing to grow. What right did Nanao think she had talking to her like this? "How is my personal life any of you people's business? God, this is mortifying enough, you don't have to make me feel guilty about who I choose to be with."

"Yes, I absolutely do. I do have to make you understand that your personal life no longer belongs to just you anymore. You gave up that right when you signed up to do this. Do you have any idea how badly this wrecks our plans? Were you even thinking at all when you decided to go out there and pick up some stranger?"

"What's wrong with living my life the way I want to? Not only do I have to pretend to be falling in love with some rich guy but I have to completely stop seeing other people too? That's ridiculous!"

Nanao's lips pursed together and she turned her eyes to the side, silently watching the passing city scenery. Rukia realized with growing horror that, despite how insane the idea had sounded when Ichigo's assistant voiced it, she was being 100% serious.

"I won't discuss this anymore until we get to Ichigo's. Clearly, we're not on the same page and if we want to attempt to salvage the wreckage of our plan, we need to work together."

Rukia wanted to object more, but she could tell by Nanao's body language that she would not speak on this anymore until they could all sit down together. Her stomach roiled as she attempted to process everything. As if the realization that she'd had a one night stand wasn't guilt-tripping enough, the evidence of the act had been plastered on the front page of the very same tabloid she worked at by her fucking _boss_.

She wasn't sure she'd even make it to Ichigo's without vomiting.

But, against the better judgement of her digestive track, she managed to keep her food down on the never-ending drive to her co-conspirator's penthouse. When she eventually stepped through the door into the massive place, she saw Ichigo sitting at a table, calmly chewing on a tin of cashews of all things before he greeted them.

His voice was filled with sarcasm as he spoke, "Well, if it isn't Miss Casanova."

The remark meant to piss her off did its job beautifully as she stuck an accusatory finger at the strangely calm movie star. "I don't want to hear anything out of you! This is all _your_ fault."

Ichigo lifted an eyebrow at her and stuffed another cashew in his mouth. "You fucking a guy is my fault?"

"Me fucking a guy being _front page news_ is your fault."

"Yeah? Well welcome to my entire life, sweetheart."

"Don't condescend to me, asshole. I'm not a fucking celebrity. Who I choose to sleep with should not concern anyone but myself!"

"Well guess what? Now it does," he countered, his voice strangely enough not rising to meet her volume. He ate another cashew as Nanao angrily barrelled past them.

"Both of you shut up. We have some serious damage control to do. I need a minute to gather my thoughts," she said as she continued on to the other side of the living room, leaving Ichigo and Rukia to continue their spiff quietly.

Well, as quietly as Rukia could manage right now.

"Look, Kuchiki, I'm definitely the last person who should be dictating how you live your life, but you got to see how much this screwed us up. Whether you like it or not, you can't live your personal life the same way. At least for now. I hate that there were even photographers hidden at your place to begin with, but it's not like you were trying to be discreet."

Rukia's eyes narrowed further at that, but she stayed silent as he continued. "Nanao has practically banned me from being seen in the same room with another woman. If I have to limit my personal life, you should have to as well."

"Oh I see," she finally stated in a charged tone. "Your assistant is cockblocking you and you're so sexually frustrated that you've decided I have to suffer with you."

The cashews were abandoned as flashes of anger finally appeared on the actor's face. "Weren't you the one who creeped through my phone? You should know that if I wanted to pick someone up, I wouldn't have much trouble. I at least have experience being secretive about these things."

A scoff was Rukia's response to that.

"But I also know I'm playing with fire even considering it. And you, you're right underneath the nose of one of the most notorious tabloid bosses in the industry every day. Shouldn't surprise you too much that it was Urahara himself who ratted you out."

At that reminder, Rukia couldn't help but let out a snarl, this time not directed at her partner-in-crime. "Oh I'm going to kill Urahara when I see him again. The _nerve_ that bastard has!"

"See, I told you. You're practically a celebrity now."

"Oh, what a dream," Rukia replied with heavy sarcasm as she still was trying to wrap her mind around this turn of events.

"Alright, I haven't come up with a solid plan, but that will come in due time," Nanao finally spoke up, approaching them once more. "Ground rules will still have to be laid down. Both of you should consider your social lives suspended. No random hook-ups or unauthorized dates."

Rukia's jaw dropped as she listened to this movie star's assistant dictate her life almost as strictly as Byakuya had done. "You can't be serious!"

Nanao's gaze sharpened. "I'm dead serious. Any indication you're seeing other people could completely ruin our plan. We were just starting to get to the stage where the media could see flashes of a relationship. Now we have to figure out how we're going to do damage control. The media thinks you actually chose some random guy over a _movie star_."

The frazzled tabloid journalist had to try her best not to let her cheeks enflame at the reminder of her hook-up that everyone was just flaunting in front of her face right now while she pondered these new 'rules'. So much for using sex as a stress relief.

"This is insane," Rukia finally managed to state, despite her shock.

Ichigo went back to his cashews and sounded far too casual as he added, "You know, Kuchiki, I can't make your decisions for you, but I feel like the promise of a shit ton of money and a shot at your dream job is more important than getting random dick."

She turned to flash him a murderous glare as he calmly chewed while Nanao huffed and moved past them again. "Hey, you two could always screw each other," she added in a tone that was difficult for Rukia to even decipher whether or not she was being serious. She sure hoped she wasn't.

"Ha ha. Don't worry, Mr. Movie Star here has already brought up that idea." Nanao rolled her eyes and went back to the other side of the room to start making phone calls for her 'damage control' project while Rukia turned back to Ichigo's calm, cashew-chewing form. "What was it that you said to me? ' _What if I fuck you?_ '"

He seemed completely nonplussed by the reminder of their conversation from that night. If anything, she could see a small smirk forming on his face, which of course only served to rile her up even more. "Hey, if my only option is going to be you for a while, I'm not opposed to the idea."

The disdain radiating from her was palpable. She knew very well he wasn't being serious, especially since the idea of them in bed together made _both_ of them queasy. It didn't stop her anger from mounting. "Gee, how flattering. Despite your intense efforts of seduction, I think my answer is still going to be no."

"Shame. We could really ride out this whole movie plot we have going on."

Rukia attempted to calm herself down. She suspected he was (as he'd previously stated he was so good at) using his sarcasm to defuse the situation. He'd even told her he didn't like the idea of some random paparazzi catching her in the middle of something so personal. She wasn't angry at him, not really, so she took his lead and fluffed up the bit. "Oh, I see. You want inspiration for your next movie plot. Well, I can give you plenty of that. The whole enemies to lovers plus fake dating is textbook cliche."

He let out a scoff before popping another cashew. His smirk was turning into a genuine smile and she could tell the intensity of the previous argument was dissipating.

"So what did you have in mind?"

Rukia reached over to steal a cashew before popping it in her own mouth. "Well, we're already half-way there. Rules set up so that if we wanted to screw someone we, goodness me, could only screw each other. As we keep having to fake our relationship we'll wonder, 'is this actually fake or is it real?'"

Ichigo's sly smile grew as he urged her on.

"And oh how the sexual tension will mount. We can play it out like the script of one of your movies. One day I 'gasp!' see you without a shirt on and my loins stir everytime I lay eyes on your decadent male form."

A scoff and another cashew, "Gross."

"And then, you see me in a state of undress. What, how could this tiny reporter who has a tongue sharper than blades also be... _sexy,"_ the inflection she used at the end had Ichigo shaking his head at her antics.

She continued on, "Worlds collide, we fall into bed and make passionate love for hours but then comes...the big misunderstanding."

"Please stop," he said with a chuckle as he offered her the tin of cashews and she grabbed another handful.

"Sounds pretty juicy doesn't it? Maybe you should pitch it to your director friend."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Right. You know, you talk a lot about romance for someone who had a one night stand with some random dude in a bar."

For the first time since all this started, she didn't take the reminder as a slight. Her tone became even more teasing as she countered, "Look, when you're in your twenties and your life is a living hell, dick is dick."

Her movie star compatriot let out a disbelieving noise at her way of speaking. "Well I wouldn't know. God, can you imagine if a man had said something like that. 'Vagina is vagina'?"

"Well you wouldn't say vagina like some _science teacher_."

"Would you two _please_ shut up," Nanao finally spoke up as she walked up to them, pocketed the phone she had just been using, and stole a cashew from the now communal tin.

"Did you figure out your damage control plan?" Ichigo casually asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Somewhat. I'll iron out all the details before I let you both in on it. Be prepared to work, though."

That didn't sound promising, Rukia thought to herself as she eyed Ichigo's assistant warily. Nanao ran a hand through her normally impeccable bangs and heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose that's all I needed to discuss with you two. Come on, Ms. Kuchiki, I'll take you home now."

Rukia wondered why the hell they needed to come here in the first place if she didn't even have anything set in stone, but she said nothing as she took a few more cashews and gave Ichigo a casual goodbye wave. She was glad they'd fallen into somewhat of a rhythm with their bantering. She was still pissed as hell she had to shut down her personal life for the sake of this grand scheme, but at least she had someone stuck in misery with her.

Now all that was left was planning Urahara's murder when she confronted him come Monday morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

Momo Hinamori looked upon the scene with growing horror. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open in shock. Shuhei Hisagi stood next to her, his arms folded casually and a tell-tale smirk on his face. The contrast between the two would've been humorous if it weren't for the unfolding crime scene before them.

The petite woman turned toward her spiky-haired coworker worriedly, "Should we be doing something?"

Shuhei scoffed, his expression unchanging. "Hell no. This is the most entertainment I've gotten in a long time."

"Still, they're gathering a crowd. This could get out of hand."

Shuhei couldn't help but laugh at that. "Nah, she won't go all the way to killing him. Besides, the boss could use a good strangling every once in a while."

Both pairs of eyes turned back toward the interior of Kisuke Urahara's office, ignoring the gasps and stifled laughs of their coworkers behind them.

Inside, Rukia Kuchiki was busy making sure her boss would permanently forget the sensation of breathing, as she had her hands wrapped around the collar of his shirt in a vice-like grip. She jostled the vetern tabloid editor enough times to where his eyes began to unfocus, the world no doubt fading in and out.

"You little creep!" she exclaimed as half the office watched from the doorway. "What the hell did you think you were doing!? I didn't sign up to have my privacy invaded when I agreed to this job!"

"K-k-kuchiki...p-please...l-let...g-o," Urahara wheezed, as he weakly attempted to pry his employee's hands from where they gripped him.

"Rukia, you shouldn't be doing this. He'll fire you!" Momo reasoned, the only one even making an attempt to defuse the situation.

"He can't fire me if he's dead!"

Momo sighed in defeat as Urahara continued to struggle for his life against the tiny hellion that was a pissed off Rukia Kuchiki. Eventually, after he made a series of 'tap-out' motions with his hand, Rukia realized that she needed an actual explanation before she murdered him, so she finally tossed him aside in disgust.

Urahara coughed and wheezed as he tried to take in some much needed oxygen. The crowd outside the office seemed rather disappointed with the end to the struggle.

After gaining back some of his lung function, the veteran tabloid boss turned back to his fuming employee. "I had h-hoped...I had hoped to have this conversation...i-in...private," he managed to get out before his eyes turned toward the crowd of onlookers. Rukia's gaze followed his and she huffed before crossing her arms.

"T-trust me...you won't want prying ears."

The last thing she was going to do was trust any words that came out of Kisuke Urahara's mouth, but this _did_ involve a convoluted scheme to pretend to be a celebrity's girlfriend that the entire reporting division of _Tokyo Digest_ did _not_ need to be privy to, so with a resigned expression she walked over to slam the door shut. Shuhei protested the act but Rukia really didn't bother to care about him as she nearly closed the door on his face.

Once she was sure her coworkers didn't have their ears against the wood, she turned back to her guilty boss, who finally managed to stand to his feet and plop himself in his desk chair, his breathing returning to normal.

Her eyes flashed as she crossed her arms and walked up to his desk. "Alright, spill it, Urahara. What ridiculous excuse are you going to use this time? If I had any money I'd be suing you for defamation!"

"Many have tried, Kuchiki. I don't think even your brother could win a lawsuit against me."

She didn't like the confidence with which he spoke, as the lack of her hands strangling the life out of him helped return him to his annoying self. She sat across from him and narrowed her eyes into tiny slits.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, then? You're in on this whole plot too and you might have just ruined everything!"

Urahara let out a laugh as he returned his famed striped green hat to his head after it had fallen to the floor during the struggle. "Oh, on the contrary. I did nothing but help us all out."

"How the hell do you figure that?"

"Don't you see, Kuchiki? This is _exactly_ what the media wants. You and Kurosaki's staff were too cookie cutter before. That's why I had to become involved in the first place. Everything was just boring, you needed a little spice."

Rukia lifted an eyebrow skeptically at that explanation. "So your solution is to post an employee's personal life on the front page?"

Urahara was calm as he replied, "Kuchiki, imagine you're a 70-year-old granny who lives alone in a tiny apartment with kids and grandkids who never call. You go to the store and pick up your weekly tabloid because it's one of the only things remaining in your life that give you pleasure. You've been reading the same drawn out story about your favorite hunky movie star and his non-celebrity squeeze over and over again but, AHA, today you read a twist in the story. Is she seeing another guy? What sane woman would choose a bar pick-up over a rich, handsome bachelor? What IS going on between the two of them? You then decide to go to the same bodega every day for weeks hoping for that next scrap of information in your new favorite story. It's a classic bait and switch."

Rukia's face remained emotionless as she listened to her boss's dramatic rendition, though she could get a tiny sense of what he was trying to say. "Really? So your whole reasoning for plastering personal photos on the very same tabloid I work for is that it makes things 'spicier'?" she asked, adding air quotes for emphasis.

"In a nutshell. Ichigo Kurosaki's staff agreed to trust my expert judgement, so this is what they're going to get."

Rukia wasn't quite sure she was ready to believe in his 'expert judgement', and she was still mad about one thing. "That doesn't erase the fact that it is not okay for you to have leaked information about me like that. I don't care how far in this scheme we get, I am _not_ a celebrity and I do _not_ deserve to be treated like one."

Urahara's sigh was long and far too dramatic. "Kuchiki, it's not my fault there were photographers posted at your place and you weren't being discreet enough. You should know by now that people have been tailing you since all of this started. And not just from _Tokyo Digest_ , either."

Rukia's expression was deadly. "Does that make it right?"

"That's only for you to decide," her boss stated simply before he shrugged his shoulders and continued on. "The weekend edition was one of the best selling ones we've had in a _long_ time. You will eventually be compensated greatly for all of this."

"Eventually? What if this all goes south? What if you adding your little 'spice' has made enough people start to think it's all bullshit?"

"Rest assured, I'm not worried about that. Especially after hearing how that Ise woman plans on handling things from now on, which I am, for once, in agreement with."

"Yeah? She hasn't told me anything about her grand plans. I'm sick of being strung along for you people to use."

"Now, now, Kuchiki, she's planning on telling you and Ichigo soon. Be patient."

Rukia scoffed and rolled her eyes, but there wasn't much else she could do. If Nanao and Urahara were on the same page, she'd have to wait to murder him, so she mumbled something about getting back to the studio to continue her story and her boss blessedly let her go without another word.

* * *

Urahara watched her leave with a strange kind of appraisal, his eyes lingering on the shut door long after she'd passed through it (and slammed it behind her). He heaved another sigh and shook his head at all that had happened. She would understand his side of things one day. He liked to think once this was all over, and she was in the best possible position she could be in, that she'd actually take the time to _thank_ him.

But he was not a stupid man, and he wasn't holding his breath for it.

His cellphone ringing brought him out of his thoughts and, after taking a look at the caller ID, he smiled brightly and answered with an enthusiastic voice. "Yoruichi! My darling, it's been far too long. How are you doing?"

" _Wondering what the hell you're up to now, Kisuke. I saw what you published yesterday. Byakuya-bo is not going to be happy_."

"Why must everyone think my intentions are not pure? I have a plan, Yoruichi. You already know this."

The woman on the other line's sigh was distinctive. " _Every day I continue to regret giving you that key card. I wanted to help Ichigo, not hurt him_."

"As do I, my dear, but these things take time. Rukia is not an easy one to break. It will take a lot on our parts to get her to come around."

" _But are we still sure this is a good idea? It sounded harmless at first, but if it hurts their reputation, it might not be worth it."_

Kisuke's voice turned serious as he replied, "Yoruichi, Isshin trusted me to handle things well. And I know you're close with Byakuya so I wouldn't want to do anything to harm that relationship either. They'll see one day. They'll be happy."

" _You sure as hell better hope so. And calling me 'close' with Byakuya-bo is a bit of an overstatement. He's already suspicious enough of me as is."_

"Don't worry, things are already starting to look up. Ichigo's assistant has proposed some juicy ways of 'furthering our story' and our favorite pair would be blind to not at least feel _something."_

" _Like I said, Kisuke, you better be damn sure of that. With a Kuchiki involved, this could all go south quickly. But I'll play along for now."_

"That's all I can ask, my love. But really, enough serious talk. When are you treating me to dinner next?"

The line went dead before he could even finish his proposal.

* * *

"Do you think that if you hopped in a spaceship and went to another planet, you'd be able to escape from a snail that's trying to kill you?"

Ichigo's form stilled and he looked up from his cup of black coffee at the auburn-haired woman sitting across from him, pondering her question as if it was the most important thing she'd ever asked.

"Why is the snail trying to kill you?" the raven-haired woman sitting beside her asked, equally as quizzical. Ichigo looked between the two of them in disbelief.

"It's a murder snail. And it's immortal. But you're immortal too," Orihime responded eagerly.

"Huh," Rukia said with a tilt of her head. "That's a tricky one. Because you're both immortal, it'd take forever, but I feel like with enough rockets going off into space, the snail would eventually be able to hitch a ride on one."

"Right? I think so too."

Ichigo's look of confusion and astonishment fell and he silently took a sip of his coffee, wondering how he had managed to associate himself with two of the weirdest women on the face of the planet.

The door to the lounge in the studio opened, abruptly ending the girls' 'murder snail' conversation as Nanao emerged. "Alright, finally I have things a bit more solidified to describe what we're going to do. As always, Orihime, you're free to stay, but not a word of this leaves this room."

The woman in question made a zipping motion against her lips and said confidently, "My lips are sealed!"

"Good. Now, Ichigo, here is your itinerary for the week. Mostly table readings and fittings and such, but you and Rukia should pay particular attention to this Saturday," Ichigo's assistant spoke in a no-nonsense tone as she placed copies of the itinerary before both Ichigo and Rukia.

With a growing amount of dread in his stomach, Ichigo took a quick look at the schedule as Rukia curiously perused it as well. Once he read Saturday's, he immediately let out a groan.

"God, _another_ charity ball? Can't I just send a check and call it a day?"

"You will be sending a check, but you also _will_ be attending. This is more than just a regular charity event."

Ichigo warily watched as Nanao's eyes went to Rukia, who still looked confused as to her involvement. But Ichigo caught on instantly.

"Oh, no…"

"Oh, yes. Congratulations, Ms. Kuchiki, you'll finally get your first appearance at a celebrity event."

Rukia's face changed as realization struck her and she let out a groan very similar to Ichigo's. "Seriously?" she asked. "Why do I have to go?

"I think you know very well by now why you have to go. We want to really shock the media. Ichigo normally never takes a date to these events so this will be the perfect time to wow them. We knew you'd eventually have to be seen with him at something more official, but we weren't anticipating it to happen this quickly."

Ichigo rubbed his temples as he pictured Rukia Kuchiki among all the prim and proper socialites that usually attended these charity events. He'd probably have to work the entire night just to make sure she didn't spill champagne on some rich CEO's suit or insult some women's designer gown to her face.

Although she was raised in the Kuchiki family, and despite not making frequent appearances at these balls, they did still tend to host a good number of them. Surely she had been groomed to act proper among important people. And, while the media were certainly still present (otherwise how would anyone know how generous all the rich people sipping 20,000 yen champagne in their designer outfits were), they weren't nearly as bad as they were at things like movie premieres. It would be annoying to have her tag along with him, but hopefully it wouldn't be _terrible_.

"God, charity balls are the worst. They're so fake," Rukia eventually responded with distaste, surprising Orihime with her apparent knowledge of them, but amusing Ichigo and Nanao.

"Finally something we can agree on," Ichigo added.

"It won't be all that bad. Ichigo knows the usual drill. You show up to be seen, talk to a few rich big-wigs, drink some champagne, and then leave. In this instance, you don't say anything about your relationship. If anyone actually does question you, make up some story about needing a date and wanting to wow the commoner."

Ichigo knew Nanao was making a rare sarcastic comment, but it still caused Rukia to roll her eyes. "So what the hell am I supposed to wear? I don't have anything that could even be remotely considered formal."

"Don't worry about that, I've already arranged a deal with some stylists. Though I wouldn't expect anything fancy. Quite the opposite actually, we want to make it seem like you pulled a cheap dress out of your closet and dolled up with some drugstore make-up."

Rukia shook her head. "I really am just a puppet to you people, aren't I?"

Despite everything, Ichigo couldn't help but feel a twinge at that comment. She had a point, considering her opinion about everything had been disregarded almost as soon as she had agreed to the deal. And, for some odd reason, that didn't sit well with him.

"A very well-paid puppet," Nanao corrected. "Your compensation will come and it will be _very_ handsome."

"Better be," she mumbled as a response before she silently resigned herself to her fate.

Nanao continued on describing the rest of Ichigo's schedule as Orihime and Rukia resumed their murder snail conversation. The whole time Ichigo couldn't help but feel like a puppet, as well.

* * *

"Quit fidgeting."

"Shut up, I can't help it!"

"You're making this into a bigger deal than it is. You're a Kuchiki. You know how to be fake in front of rich people."

"Please, this is way more nerve wracking than any snooty Kuchiki family appearance. With those I could fade into the shadows as my brother did all the schmoozing. This time, all eyes will be on me."

Ichigo turned more fully to where Rukia sat beside him in the car, trying to tell himself to be a little more sensitive. She had clearly worked herself up all week thinking about their first major public appearance. Ichigo was used to this. He had spent the last several years in front of countless cameras, getting asked countless questions. Even when she had to play the part of the good Kuchiki heiress she had never experienced this level of scrutiny.

"You'll be fine. Just try to channel that stoic Kuchiki energy. I know you're a pro at it."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't offer any counterargument. Her hands continued to fidget against the fabric of her navy blue dress and her knee bounced continuously. They were only a few minutes away from the venue where the charity ball was going to be held and he could tell her nerves were bubbling to a peak.

He adjusted the constricting bow-tie of his tuxedo and looked over at her get-up one last time. Nanao hadn't been kidding when she'd said they dress Rukia up rather cheaply. Her simple gown looked like a department store knock-off. It was rather conservative too, with mid-length sleeves, a modest neckline, and a floor-length flowy skirt. Her only jewelry consisted of small, silver hoop earrings and a cheap bracelet. A simple updo and minimal make-up completed the ensemble. He had to admit, she cleaned up nicer than he would have expected, but she would be outrageously outshined by basically everyone else in attendance.

No matter, he was quite sure she couldn't give two shits about anyone there.

Himself likely included.

Finally, the expensive car carrying the unlikely pair pulled up to the red carpet set-up outside the door of a lavish art museum converted into a party hall for the night. Cameras were already flashing, capturing the other big-name guests. Ichigo looked back at his partner and winced at the putrid green color her face had become.

"God, there's so many cameras," she spoke in a worried voice as she looked out the window.

He knew it would be impossible to appropriately console her right now, but he couldn't have her walking out there looking like a zombie. "Don't worry, we'll make it quick. There usually aren't any red carpet interviews at these kinds of events. It looks too bad, considering this is all for charity."

Despite everything, she still huffed at that. "Right, because _having_ a red carpet in the first place is so much better."

"Come on, it's now or never," he spoke in a voice as resolute as possible, lest she protest any further. He waited as his door was opened by an attendant and exited into the onslaught.

Yes, he had grown accustomed to the nonstop attention of being a celebrity, but there was still something so jarring about that first flurry of camera flashes at big events like this. He steadied himself and plastered on his well-practiced (and fake) red carpet smile.

As he had done the first time he'd brought Rukia to the studios, he caused an uproar from the gathered media when, instead of walking to his place for pictures, he turned and helped his guest for the night out of the car.

She emerged as demurely as one would expect given the situation, that same shy smile she always sported in front of paparazzi on her face. The surprised murmur that broke out, followed by a massive increase in camera flashes was expected. Playing up the bit, Ichigo looked amused and a bit sheepish as he offered his arm for his date to take.

She looked up at him in surprise and a bit of confusion, before she eventually got the memo and looped her arm through his, resting her hand gently on the crook of his elbow. A well-dressed woman running the red carpet photo-op approached the pair as they made their way further down.

"Oh, Mr. Kurosaki, welcome! Please, if I could have you and your...date stand over here for some quick pictures."

"Of course," he replied charmingly, ignoring the astonished look on her face. He practically had to pull a reluctant Rukia over and as they walked, she whispered up at him.

"Quick pictures? What the hell were those photographers doing just now?"

"It's _posed_ pictures," Ichigo hissed.

"What is this, prom?"

They made it to the spot where they were supposed to stand and Ichigo spoke in an urgent tone, "Just smile and act like you're a rich snob."

"Shouldn't be too hard," she whispered back before they turned in unison and faced the endless clicks and flashes.

* * *

Ichigo's hand burned against her hip from where it rested. They were standing in a pose meant to look casual without seeming too intimate. She attempted to keep her face neutral and tried not to blink every two seconds from the flashing lights blinding her. At the moment, 'acting natural' wasn't really an option, since her natural self wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near an event like this one, so she worked with what she knew.

_Just pretend like you're at one of those stuffy dinners Byakuya would drag you to. Don't smile too big. Act demure, but not cold. You're a proud Kuchiki heiress. Chin up, shoulders back, graceful overall air._

God, this was already bringing back painful memories. The whole premise of their plan was to pretend to be something they weren't, but that sensation felt magnified now as she prepared to step into a room full of people who considered her less than the nonexistent dirt beneath their Italian loafers and Louboutin heels.

They posed longer than either one of them would have liked before the woman from earlier gave the okay and they walked, arm-in-arm, into the main lobby of the museum. Away from the immediate scrutiny of the raging photographers, Ichigo leaned down and spoke quietly.

"As far as media presence, that's usually most of it at these types of things, but don't be too surprised if actual reporters still approach you throughout the night."

Rukia's face darkened at the reminder "Oh yeah, all the people sucking up to me who also think my job is a total joke."

"To be fair, _you_ think your job is a total joke."

Rukia couldn't help but admit he had a point as they walked into the area where most people had gathered. She certainly stuck out like a sore thumb in a room with some of the wealthiest and most well-known people in Tokyo, although she couldn't find it in herself to care. Unlike these fools, she wasn't going to pretend (outside of tonight) to be someone she wasn't. If it weren't for this whole ruse, she wouldn't have had any problem walking through men and women dressed to the nines in her usual jeans and a sweater.

The decorations were still far too lavish for a 'charity' event and well-dressed servers walked about the room with trays of food and champagne. Ichigo immediately flagged one down for drinks and for once she was thankful to him. They each took a flute and tried not to down the whole thing in one go like they were at a frat party.

"So," she began in an attempt to make some form of conversation. "How many of these people do you know?"

Ichigo quickly perused the room and tilted his head. "Probably a good chunk of them. Not outside of these stuffy events, though."

"Hm, they seem like a solid bunch," she spoke in a normal tone, though her air of sarcasm was still well evident.

Ichigo returned it in full. "Yeah, they're real winners."

Strangely enough they were left alone to their people watching for a few minutes, aside from a few friendly nods in Ichigo's direction accompanied by confused glances in hers. Rukia took another sip of her expensive champagne before Ichigo let out a sudden groan, his eyes catching on someone.

"Goddammit, I knew she was going to be here."

Confused, Rukia tried to find what Ichigo had seen, only spotting more supremely well-dressed people. She kept looking and eventually caught sight of a beautiful (and rather familiar) woman standing not too far from them. The woman had gorgeous wavy, brown-black hair and was wearing an accompanying skin tight velvet black dress. She was looking in their direction with a suspiciously dangerous look in her eyes as she daintily sipped from her own champagne flute. Rukia felt like she'd seen her somewhere before, but she couldn't think of how she would know anyone in this room besides Ichigo.

"Who is that?" she finally voiced.

"An...acquaintance," was Ichigo's cryptic answer. Rukia finally turned back toward him and strangely enough found him fidgeting under the other woman's intense gaze. She continued to rack her brain to try and figure out why she seemed so familiar...and why Ichigo appeared so uncomfortable in her presence.

Her eyes drifting back, she watched as the beautiful woman looked her up and down, made a scoffing motion and then turned back to whoever she had been talking to, a superior look on her face.

And then it suddenly clicked where Rukia knew her from.

Letting out a far too loud gasp for the environment they were in, Rukia grabbed Ichigo's arm in excitement. "Wait," she whisper-screamed. "Is that the chick that sent you all those texts and the sexy pictures!?"

Ichigo's eyes immediately left the other woman and turned incredulously down toward her. "Mind keeping your voice down?"

She complied with his wishes, but the bubble of excitement growing at the inevitable teasing did not burst. "Oh my god, this is amazing. That's the girl who was all 'this is what you're missing out on'? Incredible!"

Even amidst their crowd, Ichigo did not dampen his look of annoyance. "Would you stop laughing? It's bad enough I had her on my case to begin with and now I have to face her again."

This time she did not comply with his wishes. "Oh, poor, poor Ichigo. The incredibly sexy temptress begging to sleep with you is here. What ever will you do?"

If possible, Ichigo's glare intensified. "Shut up. It's not like I can just walk out with her. Besides, she was the one who messed with our arrangement. She knew what we were. She never should have gone off like that."

Ichigo's genuine anger at the gorgeous woman (Asako, if she remembered correctly) was a bit curious, but it didn't stop Rukia from glancing back over to see if she was staring at them again.

She was.

"Quit looking at her," Ichigo immediately cut in, pulling Rukia's attention away. "She's going to start getting ideas."

Rukia couldn't help but roll her eyes at that one. "Ugh, I hate you men sometimes. 'Start to get ideas', you're literally screwing her."

"I'm not anymore!"

"And that's supposed to be my fault?"

"If it's my fault you can't get with some guy, then it's definitely your fault I can't get with her."

"Oh, please, I have bigger things to worry about in my life than who I'm sleeping with. Meanwhile, you're over here being Mr. Money Bags and I-"

"Ichigo...I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight," a feminine voice cut into their barely contained argument. Both Ichigo and Rukia immediately looked up to find the sexy temptress herself standing before them, looking rather amused and self-assured.

Trying to salvage his dignity, Ichigo quickly stood to his full height and attempted to appear casual. But it seemed not even he was that good of an actor.

"A-Asako, I...I haven't seen you in a while."

Rukia almost winced at that.

Asako lifted a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. "Yes...I'm well aware."

An incredibly awkward silence commenced as Rukia had to settle for simply twirling her mostly empty champagne flute. She had to stop herself from downing the rest of the drink to cover the feelings of cringe.

Asako's eyes again drifted toward her, but strangely enough they didn't appear...angry, but rather genuinely curious at who the hell she was. Getting the memo, however awkwardly, Ichigo made the introductions.

"Um, Asako, this is Rukia. She's uh...a reporter. We're working on...or rather _she's_ working on a story with...me. I brought her tonight to show her how we do these...types of things."

Oh god, Rukia really could die right here and now of second hand embarrassment.

"Rukia, this is Asako. She's-" _My former fuckbuddy._ "-in the PR business. We've worked...together...in the past."

Expertly maneuvering herself around Ichigo's terribly awkward handling, Asako stretched a well-manicured hand out to her, which Rukia reluctantly took. "So you're the reporter I keep hearing so much about."

Rukia didn't know what to make of Asako's curiously friendly tone, but she still nodded her head as an answer.

"Rukia...Kuchiki, right? Formerly of the Kuchiki family?"

Both Ichigo and Rukia's eyes widened at Asako knowing that much about her. She let out a small laugh before explaining herself. "I work with a lot of important people in PR. An heiress being disowned is far too big of a story to not get around. I've never met any Kuchikis before, so this is truly an honor."

Rukia could sense Ichigo wanting to fall over in shock, so she attempted to collect herself enough to respond. "Well, you said it yourself. I'm a former. No real reason to be honored." The bitter tone that arose in her voice couldn't be helped. Any reminder of her past always dug too deep.

Asako's face softened and both her and Ichigo marveled at it. "Don't be too hard on yourself. I've talked with enough rich, powerful families to know how difficult that life is for curious thinkers like ourselves. I don't really blame you for trying to get away."

Rukia was sure her expression was ridiculous, but she just couldn't believe the words coming out of this chick's mouth. Shocking them even further, she reached for Rukia's arm and began tugging her away. "Come on, there's an open bar over there. Let's get you something stronger than champagne if you're going to survive a night with this crowd."

With one last suspiciously sweet glance at a stunned Ichigo, Asako pulled Rukia further into the crowd, and she could only look helplessly back at her "date" as she went.

Once they had finally reached the large and well-stocked bar, Asako plopped them both down in a spot and ordered two of some kind of mixed drink that Rukia was too stunned to argue against.

Once the bartender eagerly went to make drinks for the gorgeous woman before him, said goddess turned toward Rukia with that same strangely sweet smile. Her voice was rather nonchalant as she began, "So, I'm sure Ichigo has already told you how we _really_ know each other."

Rukia's shock was plainly evident. "How did you-?"

Asako laughed and replied, "Being in PR is not far off from being a reporter. I can read people very well. I could tell you two were close enough that it'd be hard to hide."

"Well, we're not actually…" Rukai trailed off as she realized she couldn't really finish her statement. She was caught between a woman who'd slept with her partner-in-crime in the past thinking she was with him now and wanting to perpetuate the idea that _something_ (however fake) was growing between her and the starlet.

"What? Dating? Fucking? I don't really care. Ichigo isn't the only rich, handsome bachelor around, and I happen to know quite a few of them. I'm hardly put out."

Rukia didn't really know _what_ to say to that so she quietly sipped her drink as it came and let Asako continue.

"To be completely honest, I'm kind of embarrassed at how I acted with him. Being drunk, horny, and alone on a rainy night isn't the best combination for me, it seems." She took a sip of her drink and seemed genuinely disgusted with herself. "Ichigo's a good one. He made it clear from day one what he wanted and I agreed with him. Never held anything against me, even with his status.

"He may not act like it, but Ichigo Kurosaki is one of the biggest names in this industry. The power he holds just by existing is astronomical from a public relations standpoint. Ichigo could come out one day and say he really loves this one brand of foot cream and that brand would make enough money to retire off the entire company before they're fourty. When this whole thing dropped with you in his apartment...it caused one hell of a ripple effect."

 _Don't remind me_ , Rukia thought, but she kept herself from voicing it. She realized she needed to appear wonderstruck from the way Asako was talking.

"But at the same time, he's so down to earth. Even before, I caught part of you guys arguing with each other," she said with a smile. "No one with his fame would ever be caught dead doing something like that in an environment like this. He just really doesn't care."

"Did he ever tell you about his family?" she blurted out. Rukia really had no idea where the hell _that_ had come from, but the mysterious way Asako was describing Ichigo's mannerisms ignited that same curiosity she had in her after that rainy night (the same one Asako went off the handle, ironically enough)

She looked confused by the sudden question. "No, he never told me anything about his family. He was always very private about them, even to me."

 _But he's told_ you _about how his mother died,_ her annoying brain pointed out. She immediately shook that thought away.

"Look, I'm telling you all of this because...whatever went down between the two of us, the fact still remains that he's a _good_ person surrounded every day by very _bad_ people. Whatever you might want from him...I just hope it's sincere."

Rukia's eyes widened astronomically at the look Asako shot her. Dear god, she was actually being serious. It was obvious she cared about Ichigo far more than he ever cared about her, but it also seemed like she genuinely was okay with the prospect of him being with Rukia now, provided she didn't have any dishonest motivations.

She almost slipped and told Asako that she had nothing to worry about before an empty champagne flute was set between them and a masculine voice ordered a glass of bourbon, neat.

"Oh, well if it isn't the man of the hour," Asako said, expertly washing away her earlier serious tone.

Instead of replying as nonchalantly as his former fuckbuddy had, Ichigo kept his expression flat, almost cold. His deep amber eyes bore into both of them and for once Rukia was content keeping her mouth shut.

"You know, I did bring a date for a reason," his deep voice finally spoke, the hidden meaning not lost on any of them.

Asako smiled and laughed, grabbing up her drink and standing to her feet. "Of course, you two should enjoy the rest of the night. Thanks for letting me steal her for a bit, Ichigo. See you around," she addressed casually with a small squeeze of his arm before she was gone without another word. Both Ichigo and Rukia watched her sashay into the crowd, silently marveling at the exchange before Ichigo sat in the spot she'd vacated.

"She didn't say anything rude to you, did she?"

Rukia, overwhelmed and shocked by the entire course of events that had transpired in such a short time, couldn't even be surprised at the protective quality to Ichigo's voice.

"No, no she didn't," Rukia turned away from the crowd mingling in the center and shook her head in disbelief. "I couldn't tell you what the hell just happened even if I tried."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost from FFN

"Don't trust her."

Rukia let out a noise of distaste and replied, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't trust her! Her entire job is making people look good, she sweet talks better than anyone I've ever met."

The tiny reporter carefully took out her silver hoop earrings and moved to undo her heels. "That doesn't change the fact that what she said was technically true. I mean you saw how sweet she was on that one CEO's son. She might be legit."

When Rukia finally undid the strappy blue heels, she breathed a sigh of relief. Though she did like the added height, she'd never enjoyed wearing heels. They were a torture device made to prey on people's low self-esteem. And after being on her feet for the last few hours, she was grateful to be rid of them.

"I don't believe it. Not after the things she said to me that night. She wants something from this. I just know it."

Rukia rolled her eyes in response and began rubbing her sore feet. "I don't know, the way she talked about you made me at least respect her, even if she was bullshitting."

"I'm not buying it," Ichigo spoke resolutely as he loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt. "Also, can I get my jacket back now?"

Rukia turned to look at him with a perplexed expression. As per Nanao's instructions, Ichigo had handed Rukia his dress jacket before they'd left, so she could drape it over her shoulders. As, expected, the media went absolutely berserk. She was still seeing spots from all the flashing lights.

Her eyes narrowed and she clutched the fancy fabric tighter around herself. "No, it's _cold_."

Ichigo's expression soured. "Then turn on the damn heater."

"Oh, so you're only going to _pretend_ to be chivalrous when you're around me? I'm a woman too. What would people say if they heard the dashing Ichigo Kurosaki demanding his jacket back from his date?"

"Men get cold too, you know."

" _Men_ don't have to wear thin dresses in the middle of winter."

He was clearly still annoyed with her, but it seemed he was too tired to keep arguing as he shook his head in defeat and looked back out the car window at the passing nighttime streets. She tried to appear dignified as she hugged the material around herself, reasoning that she actually was really cold and the jacket was still a bit warm from when Ichigo had been wearing it.

Plus, it had a whiff of whatever cologne he had spritzed on before they'd left, and a very deep part of her brain she didn't normally acknowledge had to admit...it did smell rather nice.

"Well, despite whatever Asako is up to, I think the night went pretty well."

Rukia crossed her arms beneath the jacket. "You sound surprised."

"Not surprised," he responded as his eyes flashed back to hers. "Just relieved."

"I'm no stranger to fancy events. I know how to be a stuck-up bitch when the situation calls for it."

"Of course," Ichigo agreed with a small laugh, "But it's not just that, I'm surprised people didn't say much to you."

Rukia shrugged. "I'm sure they were all thinking things, but I am glad I wasn't accosted by journalists."

"If Nanao keeps making you tag along, you'll get that eventually. Thankfully, some of the more aggressive big-wig media people know when to wrangle it in based on the event."

"'Keep tagging along?' How many of these things am I going to have to go to?"

Ichigo's frustration was warranted in this instance as he shook his head and answered, "I have no idea. I don't even know at what point they're going to announce that we're official."

Rukia groaned. "That's going to be a mess. I'm going to have to act all lovey-dovey in public with you, aren't I?"

Ichigo let out a small chuckle. "That's what I do for a living. It won't be that bad."

"Easy for you to say."

The car finally pulled up outside Rukia's apartment building and she gathered her stuff to leave, remembering to slip on the pair of flats she'd (blessedly) stashed in the car before they'd left. She gave Ichigo a short and sweet goodbye, sarcastically thanking him for a "wonderful" time before she exited into the cold night.

She was about halfway to the door when she heard him calling from behind her. She turned around in confusion and annoyance, only to see that infuriating smirk taking up residence on his face.

"What?" she bit out.

"I don't think you can afford to pay for that."

She didn't know what the hell he was talking about until he motioned to her top and she came to the distinct realization that she was still wearing his dress jacket. Before she could stop them, her cheeks instantly reddened. She stuffed down the embarrassment long enough to remove the expensive piece of clothing from her shoulders and walk back to the car to return it to its rightful owner.

Ichigo took the proffered jacket and laughed good-humoredly at her. "See you Monday, Kuchiki."

"Yeah...see you," she responded. He closed the door to the car and it drove off, leaving her in the suddenly frightfully cold night air. She attempted to shake the whole experience off before she immediately ran inside the building.

* * *

"Okay, how about this one…" Orihime started and Ichigo instantly groaned.

"Inoue, please don't."

"Why do you always have to butt in on our girl talk? This doesn't concern you," Rukia immediately countered, causing Ichigo's eyes to narrow in very familiar annoyance. "Hit me with it, Orihime."

The director's assistant giggled at their usual bickering and excitedly turned toward her new friend. "Do you think you'd be able to kill a cow with your bare hands?"

"There is _no_ way normal women talk like this."

Rukia's glare meant for the orange-haired man sitting across from her at the lounge table was murderous. "What did I just say?"

Ichigo simply grunted and sipped his usual black coffee as a response.

"I think I could do it," Rukia confidently answered and Ichigo's eyebrows instantly lifted.

"Really? How would you do it?"

"I mean, cows are dumb as hell, so you could probably trick it and then take it down like that."

"That's a good point," Orihime countered, her face humorously serious.

"You think _you_ could take down a cow with your bare hands?" Ichigo couldn't help but interject again. "Cows are massive, you're like three feet tall."

If anyone thought Rukia's glare from before was murderous, they should've gotten a look at her face after Ichigo's comment.

Sensing another argument brewing, Orihime quickly spoke to help keep the peace. "Kurosaki-kun does have a point. Even if you got it alone, it'd be really tough to fist fight with a cow."

"What the hell are we even talking about?" Ichigo asked incredulously, the ridiculousness of the whole conversation hitting him now more than ever.

Rukia scoffed. "See? This is why we don't involve you in our girl talk."

"Since when did girl talk go from being about boys and clothes to fistfighting with a _cow_?"

Surprising him, Orihime let out a laugh and shook her head. "Oh, Kurosaki-kun. You have so much still to learn."

In a rare switch of their usual roles, Rukia smirked at Ichigo and spoke in a confident voice, "Since when has it _ever_ been about boys and clothes?"

Knowing this was a losing battle, Ichigo lifted his coffee cup to his lips. "You know what, you're right. I don't want to be involved in this conversation."

The two women continued to postulate the methods of battling with a large, bovine animal as Ichigo attempted to tune them out. The weariness of the past few weeks was starting to get to him more and more each day. Filming for his next movie was going to begin soon and Ichigo knew it would only get worse then. Uryuu was like a drill sergeant about his shooting schedules.

Ichigo stifled a yawn and took another sip of his coffee, before the rumblings of a distinctly familiar voice were heard down the hall and he almost spit the drink halfway across the table.

"Oh, no," he voiced in dread, drawing the attention of the women seated with him. While Rukia looked confused at his words, Orihime's face dropped as she too recognized the high-pitched tone of the person clearly coming down the hall toward the studio lounge.

"Oh, dear. That's bad timing," the auburn-haired assistant lamented.

"What the hell is she doing here? Is she filming something?" Ichigo asked.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"What are you guys talking about?" Rukia voiced, looking between the two for some answers.

"Wait, does she know about…" Orihime trailed off as she pointed between Rukia and Ichigo.

Ichigo's eyes instantly closed and he let out a small groan. "No, she doesn't."

Orihime winced. "That's even worse."

"Yeah...I know."

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

Before either Ichigo or Orihime could answer the raven-haired reporter, the door to the lounge burst open and a strong whiff of expensive perfume wafted through the area. All three turned to find the perpetrator of the boisterously loud voice they'd heard and greeted the blonde woman with varying expressions of confusion, distaste, and dread.

"Oh! Well if it isn't my favorite co-star. What are you doing just sitting there, Ichigo, I thought you'd be hard at work after our last movie wrapped," Rangiku Matsumoto spoke happily as her eyes fell on her former co-star sitting in the lounge.

She practically ran up to hug him and place a kiss on his cheek, which he struggled against the whole time. His amber eyes narrowed and he huffed. "Rangiku, why the hell are you always all over me? Personal space does exist, you know."

"Oh, sweetie, can you blame me? Every time I look at you I just get smacked in the face with hotness," the veteran actress giggled, knowing her words would only further twist Ichigo's stomach. Her eyes then fell on the assistant sitting beside him.

"Hello, my dearest Orihime. How are you doing?" This time Rangiku's side hug was much more discreet and soft, speaking of a genuine friendship as compared to whatever someone wanted to call her and Ichigo's relationship.

Orihime's smile was sincere as she returned the gesture. "I'm doing well, Rangiku. How was Hawaii?"

The buxom blonde stood to her full height and walked over to pour coffee from the pre-made pot, her red-bottomed heels clicking along the floor as she went.

"Oh, incredible. Blue skies, white beaches, and a whole host of sun-tanned men. It was delightful. Ichigo, one of these days you and I should do a beach vacation together."

The noise Ichigo let out would've been humorous if it weren't for the situation he was in. "Yeah, right. You'd probably just spend the whole time trying to find someone for me to sleep with...or would try to come after me yourself."

Rangiku laughed joyously. "Yes, I probably would. Doesn't sound too horrible does it? Next time, I'm thinking...Fiji. Or maybe The Maldives. Get one of those on-the-water cabins, or maybe...Oh!" The blonde actress droned on before her eyes actually scanned the rest of the room and finally fell on his co-conspirator. Ichigo inwardly groaned as he watched Rangiku's face light up.

"Oh my god! Is that the reporter girl!? Oh, she's so cute!"

Ichigo chanced a glance at Rukia, and found her face twisted in confusion (and possibly a bit of anger too at the comment). He didn't make any attempt to save her as Rangiku rushed around the table to approach the wary tabloid journalist.

"Why didn't you two introduce me earlier? So rude! Hi, sweetie, I'm Rangiku Matsumoto." Ichigo didn't know why she even bothered with her name, since he was quite certain Rukia already would've known her, working in this industry. Rangiku was as famous as he was, maybe even more so. "I've just been dying to meet you ever since those first pictures came out," she spoke as she extended her perfectly manicured hand for Rukia to shake, which the smaller woman did, but not without plenty of apprehension.

"Uh, hello there. I'm Rukia Kuchiki."

"Rukia! What a pretty name," the actress said as she instantly took a seat beside her. "And your eyes! Wow, I would kill for eyes that color." She then turned toward him with a mischievous look. "You picked a good one, Ichigo."

"We're not dating, Rangiku," he countered, probably a bit too quickly.

His co-star didn't seem even slightly convinced of that. "Oh, of course. You're _totally_ not dating," she spoke with an added (and far too over-exaggerated) wink. Her eyes flashed back to Rukia and she smiled. "You know, part of me always thought I'd end up with Ichigo, especially after how many times we've worked together, but it's more obvious now that I'm just not his type. He must go for girls who are smaller...in more ways than one."

When Rangiku's eyes flashed down to Rukia's chest and his partner looked completely taken aback, he couldn't help but interject. "Rangiku!" he exclaimed in an angry voice.

Not at all deterred, his former co-star's smile only grew. "Calm down, Ichigo, I'm only teasing. You don't need to go full on protective boyfriend on me."

"I'm not-!"

"Right, so now that I've met my favorite co-star's new girlfriend, I think a few things should be done," she continued on, completely ignoring everyone's looks of protest. "First things first, sweetie. I'm sorry, you're adorable, but if you're going to date Ichigo Kurosaki, you need to get clothes that aren't quite as...frumpy. Fortunately, I am well-versed in that area and would just love to take you shopping with me."

Ichigo watched as Rukia attempted to stop the words from flowing out of the buxom actress's mouth. He knew it was a lost cause though.

"We can make a day of it! I just got out of my meeting so I'm free. You can come too, Hime."

"Oh...great," Orihime answered, her face taking on the same apprehensive look Rukia had been sporting since Rangiku stepped through the door.

"And while we're out you'll have to spill _all_ the details. Ichigo never lets us meet his girlfriends so this is a one-of-a-kind opportunity for me."

"There's a _reason_ I never bring women around here," he finally added in, his voice filled with vehemence that of course Rangiku ignored.

"Yes, well, you brought this one, so I'm going to take _full_ advantage. Come on, let's go now before Ichigo can stop us," she excitedly spoke, pulling a reluctant and, quite frankly, frightened looking Rukia to her feet. "I'll call the chauffeur on our way down and then we're hitting up all my favorite boutiques. Don't even try and argue, honey, it's all going to be on me."

His poor co-conspirator managed one last pleading look at him as the veteran actress dragged her out of the room, but Ichigo realized in defeat that there was nothing he could do. Orihime stood slowly and flashed him an apologetic glance before she followed after the pair.

Ironically enough, this was probably the guiltiest he'd ever felt since they'd started their whole ploy.

* * *

"Rangiku, this is really kind of you, but I really, _really_ don't accept expensive gifts. I'm just a journalist, I don't have a use for nice clothes like these," Rukia said for quite possibly the hundredth time in the last few hours as they perused through racks and racks of astronomically high-priced clothing in one of the fanciest boutiques in this part of Tokyo.

"Honey, you need to stop arguing with me. Dating a celebrity is a use in and of itself," the blonde actress said simply as she found a sparkling blouse and held it up to Rukia's torso to compare sizes.

Rukia pushed the top away and huffed. "First of all, we're not dating." Something else she'd said over a hundred times during the span of this little "shopping" trip. "And second of all, even if we were, Ichigo doesn't mind my clothes and I don't care what people think about me so what does it matter? I'm trying to make a name for myself in this industry and it's bad enough people think I'm mooching off of Ichigo. If you start, no one's ever going to take me seriously."

It was certainly more than Rukia had ever imagined revealing about herself to a famous actress, but she needed to do _something_ before Rangiku dropped hundreds of thousands of yen on a whole new wardrobe. She had been right in saying they were nowhere near the same size (yes, in more ways than one, she had to begrudgingly admit) so it wasn't like Rangiku could keep half the clothes she was trying to buy.

Orihime blessedly butted in, "She has a point Rangiku. She's on her own right now, and it looks bad to all of a sudden have a lot of expensive things. Maybe you should just get her one or two outfits?"

Rukia would've preferred none, but she could settle for only a few. It would be a waste of so much money, though, since she'd never actually wear them. Better Rangiku paid her rent for a few months, if she was going to be offering up that kind of cash.

The buxom woman sighed as dramatically as one would expect from an award-winning actress. "Oh you people are no fun. Fine, I'll try and limit myself...BUT only if Rukia promises to tell me _everything_ about her and Ichigo's relationship," she offered up slyly.

Thankful to have averted taking home bags and bags of expensively useless clothing, Rukia let out a breath of air and replied, "There's really not much to tell."

"Honey, I don't buy that for a second. Do you see the way he looks at you? God, I was only in the room for a few minutes and I swear he never took his eyes off of you. Trust me, if there's one thing besides movies I'm an expert in, it's knowing when a man has a thing for a woman. Spill."

Rukia weighed her options as the veteran actress turned her attention fully toward her. Orihime looked at her warily, not knowing how much she wanted to reveal. She certainly didn't want to tell Rangiku that it was all just a ruse, because she was certain she wouldn't keep quiet about it, but she also didn't want to start shyly describing Ichigo's romantic virtues. She wasn't an actress, she couldn't lie about her feelings for him like he could about her.

Although, it wasn't like she _hated_ him. He did have good qualities. Shockingly good qualities, actually. She'd already been proven wrong about a number of things since they'd started working together. He wasn't the bad boy bachelor he presented himself as.

"Well, I mean he doesn't suck to be around if that's what you want to know," she spoke, for once truthfully.

Rangiku's eyes turned devilish, silently urging her to continue.

"I'm working on a story, you know, and he's already helped me so much. It's only been a few weeks and he's connected me to so many people that work in the studio. It's like he knows even the lowest man on the totem pole by name. And they all think so highly of him."

Rangiku smiled. "And what do _you_ think?" she asked, nonchalantly perusing the racks as she sought her answer.

Rukia's face was sheepish and embarrassed as she replied, "He's nice. Nicer than I would expect given what the media always says. He's passionate too. He makes it seem like he hates everyone but you can tell that's not true. He loves way more than he hates."

Orihime turned her head away, lest Rukia catch her knowing smile.

Rangiku had no such discretion.

"Mhmmm, so what's he like in bed?"

If Rukia had been drinking something, she was sure she would've done one hell of a spit take. "W-What!? I don't know," she sputtered out.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, very sure," she resolutely responded. God, she hoped she wasn't blushing.

Rangiku let out another dramatic sigh. "Well, that's a shame. I've always been curious, you know. Ichigo absolutely refuses to fall into bed with me, but it's no secret that he's had plenty of past flings. He carries himself like he knows what he's doing."

Rukia fingered through the racks of clothing, desperate to have something to do to hide the fact that this was _not_ the conversation she wanted to be having about Ichigo. "Well I haven't thought about those things."

"Ha! Now I _know_ you're lying. How can you have a piece of man meat around you that fine and not _at least_ be curious?"

"T-that's not what I'm after, honestly! I'm grateful to him for saving me that night and I'm happy that he's given me an opportunity to do a story like this, but that's it."

"Uh-huh. My bet's on you two sleeping together before the end of the month."

"How about we go pick out what you're going to get for Rukia, hm?" Orihime quickly interjected, looping her arm around Rukia's and guiding her through the store. She had never been more grateful for her auburn-haired friend than she was in that moment. "Ichigo's planning on taking her to some bigger events so she can get a better idea of how everything we do works, but she doesn't really have any fancy clothing. How about a nice dress?"

Her attention adequately diverted, Rangiku gasped and excitedly dashed toward the part of the boutique with the gowns. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! Nice dresses are my specialty."

A safe enough distance away from the actress quickly proving herself to be far too much for Rukia to handle, she leaned into Orihime and whispered, "Why does everyone keep wanting me to have sex with Ichigo? Is his dick magic or something?"

Orihime could only partly muffle the cackle that erupted at that.

"Now, this place has some pretty good options. Ooh, this one is nice, but it's definitely more my style than yours. This one's decent but...oh no that color would clash with your eyes. Oh! I think this one would suit you splendidly," Rangiku mused as she looked through the nicest gowns the store had to offer. She pulled out the one that caught her eye and held it next to Rukia's form. "Yes, that should fit you quite nicely. Why don't you go try it on?"

Before she could even think of a protest, she was being shoved in the direction of the dressing rooms. An actual attendant was there to guide her into an enormous room to change while another employee offered glasses of champagne to their high-profile customers.

Finally getting a good look at what Rangiku had picked for her, she tilted her head and had to admit...it wasn't half bad.

The fabric had a velvety texture, so while the dress was technically a gray color, it shimmered and appeared more silver. Rukia undressed and then carefully took the gown off the hanger before slipping it on her form.

When she turned around to look at herself in the mirror, she nearly gasped.

While Rangiku was far off the mark in regards to her love life, she might actually know what she's talking about with fashion.

Rukia looked... _good_. And not just 'Kuchiki heiress with her head held high trying not to ruin her brother's reputation' good. She looked _beautiful_ good. Even _sexy_ good. She truly could not remember the last time she was that impressed by her own reflection.

The gown fit her like a glove. It felt smooth and shimmering against her skin. It was tight, but not uncomfortably so, hugging her body in all the right places. Two small spaghetti straps held the dress up before they dropped into a dipping, but not too excessively immodest, neckline. The bottom pooled around her legs and (after Rangiku shoved a pair of heels under the door so she could get a better sense of what she'd look like out with it on) was the perfect length, even for her shorter frame. A slit climbed dangerously high up her thigh on one side and she was starting to feel a bit _naughty_ even wearing this thing.

She turned around and smirked in the mirror. The back wasn't much to speak of, but the fit of the dress around her hips perfectly accentuated what, aside from her eyes, Rukia thought was one of the best features of her body. Her hands ran down the curve of her ass and she wondered at what point this had turned overly conceited.

She honestly couldn't help it, though. She _loved_ the way she looked in this dress. More so than she'd ever had with any of her older fancy clothes. She wore baggy sweaters and jeans daily. She didn't need to wear heels and a dress to feel beautiful, but this had also been placed in her lap without much decision on her part, so why not admire it a bit?

Rukia's hands stilled from where they were running along the velvety fabric. A thought hit her like a freight train and suddenly she wasn't even sure if she liked the dress anymore.

The purpose of it wasn't for her to wear lying around on her couch. It was to wear to a fancy event. With cameras and media and...Ichigo. Did she want people seeing her wearing this, dolled up like a seductress?

Hell, did she want _Ichigo_ to see her like this?

_Maybe I do._

Abruptly pulling her out of a dangerous line of thinking, Rangiku and Orihime called out their impatience to see the dress and Rukia sighed before opening the door to the dressing room and stepping out. They had a whole pedestal surrounded by mirrors waiting for her and both of the women with her gasped and tittered excitedly as she turned toward them.

"Aha, I knew it! I knew there was some sexiness underneath the frumpiness. Ichigo certainly has good taste," Rangiku spoke before taking a sip of her champagne.

Resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, Rukia turned toward the person whose opinion she actually did care about. "It does look amazing, Rukia. Rangiku's right, it's pretty sexy. But still classy," Orihime spoke genuinely.

Unable to help herself, Rukia ran her hands over the fabric again. "It's comfortable."

Rangiku scoffed. "Oh, please. Quit being so practical. Just like I can tell when a man has a thing for a woman, I can also tell when a woman has a thing for a _dress_. You love it, don't you?"

Not really wanting to admit the blonde actress was actually right, Rukia's eyes drifted to the side. "It's...not bad."

Both Orihime and Rangiku laughed at that before Rangiku turned toward the attendant. "That's it! We're getting this one. Throw in the heels, too. And I don't want to see any more protesting from you, Rukia. You'll make everyone's jaws drop in this."

While the attendant left to go ring up the no doubt astronomical total (that Rukia was trying very hard not to think about), she turned back to look at her reflection. The more she admired herself in the dress, the easier it was to imagine her hair down, but still styled with a slight wave to it, maybe even some dangly silver earrings, ruby red lipstick painted on her lips, and a strong, masculine hand fitting a touch too well against the small of her back, unable to resist the temptation to drift down just a bit further…

 _Okay, brain, calm the_ fuck _down,_ she instantly reminded herself. This dress must be making her drunk if she was thinking like that. She didn't know what had gotten into her.

"Alright, Rukia, I'm going to go pay while you change. I think this is cause for celebration though! One of my favorite restaurants is not far from here so dinner is on me," Rangiku spoke in an excited tone before she left the fitting room area with her usual flourish.

Relishing their chance to be alone, Orihime smiled and reassured her friend, "It is a great dress, Rukia."

"Yeah...even I can admit that." As she regrettably stepped down to take off the gorgeous piece of clothing, a thought occurred to her. "Hey, Orihime, do you mind keeping the dress at your place?"

"Sure! But...why?"

Rukia sighed and answered, "Well, as nice as this is, Nanao and my boss are still pretty dead set on me looking plain when I'm in public with Ichigo, so I don't know when I'll have the chance to actually wear it. Maybe not until things are more official. Plus it'd be idiotic to keep something this expensive where I live."

Orihime nodded her head in understanding. "Ah, I see. That makes sense. You know, I think Ichigo really will like it."

At those words, Rukia's form stilled on her way back to the fitting room and she turned to where Orihime was curiously looking at her, a strangely unreadable expression on her face.

Blatantly lying, Rukia replied, "I don't care if Ichigo likes it."

* * *

A few weeks later, Rukia was abruptly awoken in the middle of the night by the smell of smoke and a loud banging noise against her apartment door.

Groggily, she shoved the covers off her bed as the pounding persisted. She took a quick glance at her phone for the time and wondered who the hell would be bugging her here at three am. She'd never gotten to know any of her neighbors and she sure as hell hoped none of her new friends (or acquaintances) had tracked her down to wake her this late (or early, depending on how you looked at it).

Her whole body felt sluggish and she wondered where the smell of smoke was coming from as she swung her door aside without another thought.

The scene she found in the hallway was enough to wash away the last of her sleepiness.

A stranger stood outside her door, worriedly dancing from foot to foot and glancing around at the people running by him. This would have been weird enough at any other time, but the fact that it was the middle of the night had Rukia's stomach twisted.

"Hey," the stranger said once his eyes came back to the door and he saw that she'd answered. "One of the apartments on the other side of the building is up in flames right now. You need to get out."

Shock enveloped her whole body at these words while her other neighbors gathered their families and made their way down the nearby staircase. "W-what?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I don't know, some shitty late night cook or something. It's still far from us and the fire department is already here taking care of things but it might spread to this side. You should grab what you can carry and make your way outside."

The insane, and dangerous, turn of events had Rukia instantly on alert. She nodded her head and thanked the man who had graciously come to warn her while he ran to go wake the other residents.

Rukia shook her head as she turned back toward her small apartment and realized she had only a few minutes to decide what, out of all her possessions, was important enough to carry with her out of the building.

 _Where the hell is the fire alarm? If that guy hadn't come to warn me, who knows what might have happened,_ she thought with concern as she dashed to put on some sweatpants and a winter coat and hat. She slipped on her favorite pair of sneakers and grabbed a shoulder bag to stuff things into. _Probably doesn't even work in this shit hole. Unbelievable._

Both her heart and her mind raced as she tried to decide what she needed. She picked up her phone, her keys, and her wallet. She then ran to her dresser and grabbed a few pairs of clothes, stuffing it all into her bag. She dashed into her bathroom and reached around the back of the toilet to where she'd taped her emergency cash stash and took that too. She couldn't even believe this was real as she felt like she was forgetting everything and also nothing.

Quickly snatching up her favorite Chappy stuffed animal that just managed to fit at the top of the bag with everything else, she eventually deemed that a safe enough amount of earthly possessions to keep with her. She then proceeded to rush out of her apartment, down the stairs, and onto the street.

The scene outside wasn't any less chaotic than the one inside as a crowd of other tenants had gathered, all talking worriedly amongst each other and marvelling at the fire coming from the backside of the building. Smoke billowed from the top and Rukia was beginning to feel like she was in a movie. Lights flashed from the large amount of emergency vehicles gathered around, the firefighters and the police officers trying to control the rapidly evolving situation.

The biting cold of the winter night hit her full force. Her breaths were coming out in puffs as she failed to wrap her mind around the crazy turn of events. The panic and disbelief was rising at an alarming rate.

How...after everything that had been dumped onto her plate...how was she supposed to deal with _this_ too? Was her apartment going to burn down as well? Was she going to lose everything that wasn't packed up in the bag hanging off her shoulders? Where was she supposed to go now?

She huddled closer with some of her neighbors as they listened to the man who had come to warn her before. He seemed to have a better grasp on the situation, having already talked to some of the firefighters.

"They're saying it's relatively contained. It's mostly in the one unit and bits of the ones next to it. Trouble is, this building's so old that one fire might be enough to ruin the structural integrity of the whole place."

Another resident asked in a worried voice, "Does that mean we won't be allowed back?"

"Probably. This building's a dump anyway so I doubt it'd be able to withstand much at all."

"But where are we supposed to go? Are we all homeless now?"

Another tenant spoke up, "Someone was saying there's a shelter not far from here that will take us all in for a few days...at least until we figure out where we can go."

"What about our stuff?"

The conversations continued on as the displaced group attempted to figure out what to do. They waited in the biting cold for a while until some police officers came to confirm all the information from before. Thankfully, no one had been harmed, but at the moment they wouldn't be allowed back inside. The police were able to take them to the shelters and it was doubtful whether or not everyone would lose their things.

Rukia's body felt numb as the crowd, some of them with tears in their eyes, got ready to be transported. An older woman that had been standing next to Rukia (and that she thought she remembered living down the hall from) turned toward her, "You're coming too, aren't you, dear?"

Rukia struggled for a few moments just to find her voice, the reality of everything crashing down on her. "U-uh, yeah...I guess so."

As she made to follow the other residents, another one flashed her a funny look, as if they were trying to remember something, before their face suddenly lit up. "Wait a second...aren't you the girl everyone's saying is dating that movie star guy?"

Rukia's eyes snapped wide open and she turned toward her neighbor in shock.

The question gathered attention, as a few more displaced residents looked at Rukia before recognition washed over their faces. "Yeah...I've seen your pictures online. You're dating Ichigo Kurosaki!"

"What? Really?" more people murmured as they started to gather around her. Panic arose within her and she found she couldn't even speak.

"So _that's_ why there's been strange people lingering around this place the last few weeks."

"He's worth millions, you should get him to come help us!"

"Yeah, I'll bet a rich guy like that has some spare rooms. We're all homeless now."

"You should call him!"

More pleas started up as they implored Rukia to get her "rich boyfriend" to come and save them all. She tried to stutter out a response, but nothing came as her head swiveled to all the people around her.

All this time, with each new trial the world decided to throw at her, she'd remained strong. Sure, she'd had her fair share of mental breakdowns, but every time she bounced back. She could do this. She could achieve her dreams. She had convinced herself that nothing could stop her from that.

But now, in this moment and with everything else going on, Rukia couldn't help it.

She finally broke.

Without another word, Rukia could do the only thing she could think of and turned to run down the street. Away from her neighbors, away from her shitty apartment building, away from everything. The prickling sensation forming at the corners of her eyes was overwhelming, but she used her last bit of strength to keep it away.

She hadn't gone far, as the cold began to seep into her bones, but it was far enough away that no one would come after her or find her. She'd felt like she ran a marathon but had only gone a few blocks down the street and around the corner. She came to a stop and found some old, dirty cardboard resting against a nearby wall. Using it as her seat, she collapsed onto the icy cold ground and fought as hard as she could to not start sobbing. She set her shoulder bag down and wrapped herself into a ball, shutting out the world around her. She was broke, she had no friends or family to turn to, and now she was homeless. She wouldn't go with her neighbors to the shelter because they'd just accost her, she couldn't afford a hotel room, and Orihime, one of the only people she could think of to ask for help wasn't available, as she'd flown to Seoul for the week on a business trip with Uryuu.

There was nothing she could do. At this point freezing to death right here on the streets was looking like her best option.

As childlike as she knew it made her, she reached into her bag to grab the stupid Chappy plushie, wrapping her arms around it for some scrap of comfort. It reminded her of a simpler time. When her life wasn't a living hell. When she was young and happy. When her sister wasn't sick. When her brother hadn't expected the world from her. When she was still friends with Renji. When things weren't so... _hard_.

A single tear fell on Chappy's fake fur.

Rukia had never felt more alone.

* * *

The last thing Ichigo Kurosaki had expected before he'd gone to bed the night before was to be awoken by the sound of his phone going off at four in the morning.

The orange-haired man sleepily turned in his massive bed as the buzzing persisted, slowly waking him up. He rubbed his eyes and tried to stretch his limbs as he wondered who the hell would be calling him this late at night.

His eyes opened wide as soon as he got a look at the caller ID.

"Hello?" he instantly answered, his voice filled with concern.

The line was strangely silent and the dread filling up Ichigo's stomach multiplied tenfold. "Hello?" he asked again, still receiving no greeting. "Rukia? Are you alright?"

" _I-Ichigo_ ," she finally answered, and if Ichigo had been worried before, he was terrified now. Her voice sounded cracked and full of emotion, like she'd been crying. It was also far too soft for her usual loud tone.

He sat up in his bed as he held the phone to his ear. "Rukia? Is something wrong, where are you?"

It was a strange thing, to come to a sudden realization that if something actually had happened to her, he would be upset, all while not even realizing it because he was so wrapped up in his concern.

" _I...I'm outside my apartment."_

Outside? At this time of night? In this weather? Her voice still sounded strained and his concern continued to grow.

"What happened? Are you safe? Do you need help?"

" _I…_ " the line went silent again and he waited with baited breath for her to respond. Finally, she startled him by letting out a seemingly relieved breath of air as she clearly made an attempt to sound nonchalant. " _Yes, I'm safe. I don't know what I was thinking calling you this late. I'm sorry. I don't need any help_."

"But-" he attempted to reason with her, shocked that she was telling him this after what she had just said.

" _Don't worry, I'm fine. Sorry again for waking you up. Talk to you later,"_ she spoke quickly before the line went dead.

Ichigo sat in stunned silence as he slowly lowered the phone from his ear. What the hell was that? What was going on? Something had at the very least spooked her, otherwise she wouldn't have called him at such an odd time (hell, she hardly ever called him at all).

He didn't believe that she was fine for a second, especially since he could still hear the way she was barely repressing her tears while she talked. No, something was seriously wrong.

That made his decision much easier as he hopped out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed his car keys, and dashed out of his penthouse.

* * *

Ichigo wasn't really sure what he had been expecting as he pulled up to the familiar address in one of the shadier parts of Tokyo. He had hoped at the very least that Rukia wasn't in any immediate danger, but he figured if she had been, she wouldn't have tried to blow him off. So he really couldn't decipher what might be going on.

Until he pulled up to her apartment building.

"Holy shit," he breathed out in shock, unable to even pull up outside the place due to the amount of emergency vehicles and people crowded around. He managed to find a spot to temporarily stop across the street and gaped at the chaotic scene.

Smoke was pouring out of the upper floor windows of the building as firefighters aimed jets of water to try and contain the fire. Policeman directed the crowd down below, and he watched curiously as groups of what he could only assume were tenants of the building being huddled into the police cars and driven away. He immediately looked through his window for signs of the short, raven-haired reporter, but couldn't spot her anywhere.

After a few more minutes of futile searching, all the while ignoring the pounding of his heart as he watched the scene, he decided to at least drive around the block to try and look for her and then he would find a place to park and start asking around. At this point he didn't care if people recognized him. If this was what had Rukia so freaked out, he had to get to her.

He wasn't expecting much as his car slowly inched down the road, figuring she could have gone with everyone else to wherever the police were taking people. So, when his eyes caught a flash of pink and then noticed a huddled figure leaned up against the wall of a building a few blocks away, he had to slam on his brakes to try and not miss her.

He pulled his car over and cursed under his breath, "Goddammit." Seeing her crouched beside a dark alley in the middle of a winter night made the gravity of the situation even more apparent.

He hopped out and began walking toward her, his heart twinging harder than it ever had in her presence.

There was his usually spritely, fiery, no-nonsense, and goofy co-conspirator, curled up into a ball clutching a stuffed animal like it was her lifeline. Her face was hidden, he could tell she was shivering from the cold, only dressed in some sweatpants, a coat that didn't look nearly warm enough, and a beanie, sitting on an old rotten cardboard box.

"Rukia!" he desperately called out, the entire image of her making him far more uneasy than he would have expected.

At the sound of his voice, her head shot up and her eyes met his.

And, _oh god_ , that made everything worse.

Her eyes, the violet colored orbs that he couldn't help but admit (even after he first met her) were the most beautiful he'd ever seen, were blank and empty, with tears collecting in the corners. He never imagined he'd see her like this. It just wasn't right. This was the opposite of the Rukia he was used to.

And nothing had unsettled him more.

"I-Ichigo," she spoke with genuine surprise as he approached her. "What are you doing here? I told you I didn't need any help."

"Help!?" he exclaimed, shocked at the way she was talking and the near _distrustful_ look that appeared in those violet eyes. "Rukia, your building is on fire, why wouldn't you need help? Fuck, are you alright? Why are you over here by yourself?"

Her face twisted at his questioning, and she huddled further into herself. Her voice turned bitter as she answered, "My neighbors recognized me."

The amount of guilt that flooded him at that moment was astronomical.

"They're all going to some shelter somewhere, but when they realized who I was they kept asking about you. I-I can't go with them." She shook her head and continued on. "I just needed some time to think about what I'm going to do now."

As much as he was beginning to hate himself for getting her dragged into this entire situation with him, he couldn't let her words go unaddressed. "What are you talking about? What you're going to do is get in my car so I can take you home."

At this, her eyes shot back to his with a remnant of her usual fire. "What? No."

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no!" she shouted, surprising him even further. "I'm not going to go with you. I'm doing this on my own."

Sensing where this was going, he tried to wrangle in a bit of the familiar anger that always seemed to arise in her presence. "Rukia, that's crazy. It's not like I don't have the room. Where else are you supposed to go?"

"I don't know!" she returned, her voice growing in volume as the tears actually started to leak out. "I don't _fucking_ know Ichigo, but what I do know is that I can't go home with you."

"Why not?" he countered with an equally rising tone.

"Because it's cheating!" Here, she tossed her stuffed animal to the side with her bag and stood to her feet, heatedly meeting him face-to-face on the street. "Because there would be absolutely no goddamn _point_ to me leaving my brother, going out on my own, working a shitty job I hate, and doing all this crap with you if, as soon as anything bad happened, I had some rich guy come in and fix everything. That's not how the real world works, Ichigo!"

He was surprised at how quickly the emotion rose in him. "You think I don't know that? You really think all of this just magically came to me and I have no idea what actual hardships feel like? I worked my ass off to get here, Rukia, but I didn't do it alone."

His words seemed to take them both by surprise, as whatever counter argument she was planning on making was stopped at the tip of her tongue. They both breathed heavily from the force of their yelling as time seemed to stand still between them.

Eventually, Ichigo's patience ran out. "This is stupid, Rukia. Let's go," he spoke resolutely as he moved to grab her arm and guide her to his car, but she quickly shook herself free.

"No, I won't." His anger rising, he made another attempt and this time she actually shoved him away, his temper rising exponentially at that. "Get the fuck away from me, I'm not going!"

"I told you already, Rukia, you can't do this shit alone! Everyone has to rely on somebody else in their life, why can't you, for just this one time, rely on me?" A heated pause passed after Ichigo's forceful words before he spoke what had been swimming through his mind as soon as she called him. "I mean we're friends, right!?"

That seemed to shut her up quite nicely, as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped a bit. He hadn't really meant to blurt it out, but he couldn't think of any better time to put some kind of label on their relationship, as weird as it was.

Her shock faded quickly and she let loose a bitter scoff. "Please, don't be ridiculous. A celebrity and a tabloid reporter can't be friends."

Ichigo's voice was unwavering as he countered her. "That's bullshit and you know it."

Her eyes flashed as they held each other's gazes for longer than they both knew. He watched, not too unexpectedly, as tears started to fall in earnest down her face.

"I just don't understand. I don't get why everything has to be so unfair." She motioned back in the direction of her apartment building. "I don't _get_ why all those people have to spend the night in a shelter, wondering where the hell they're going to live and I get to go to a _penthouse_. I don't know why, after how hard I've tried, the heavens open up every day and just rain shit down on top of me. I didn't ask for that much! It's not _fucking_ fair."

Ichigo would never admit the way his heart felt as he watched her tears turn into full-on sobs.

"None of this makes any sense. I-I don't...I don't know why everything has to be so goddamn _hard!"_ she exclaimed before the emotion overtook her and she completely shocked him by falling loosely against his chest, burying her face in his coat as she cried.

Ichigo was frozen by the sudden move, not knowing what exactly she wanted from him in this moment, before he inwardly scoffed at the stupidity of everything and confidently wrapped his arms around her tiny form.

He held her as she cried, not offering up words of encouragement, not gently shushing her or attempting to dry her eyes. He was just...there. He was there when she needed someone and really that's all he could ever hope to be.

After her cries died down somewhat, he spoke, "You're right. It's not fair. You don't deserve any of what's happened to you. It's terrible fucking luck and that's all anyone can say to it."

She turned her head to the side, and he could feel her body tightening up, as if she was starting to realize what they were doing. Still, neither of them moved, even as she answered him, "All I wanted to do was achieve my dream. Do something for myself. I just…" she trailed off as she seemed to struggle to name what it was she was feeling.

Ichigo could though. He could see it plain as day. "You wanted to be your own person."

He had always imagined that was her actual motivation. No one wants to be a journalist so bad that they'd go through what she went through after being so comfortable and so taken care of her whole life. But she was never her own person. She was the Kuchiki heiress, the perfect princess who was so smart and so pretty and so ladylike but never...herself. And that's what she wanted to achieve by leaving her old life. She wanted to be a writer, but more importantly she wanted to be her own person.

And that was something Ichigo could very much relate to.

She nodded her head against his chest as an answer to him and he couldn't help the soft smile that passed across his face. "That isn't asking for too much. Having a dream isn't a crime. But you know, no one can achieve a dream by themselves. Hell, I'd bet the majority of those people in your building have someone they can turn to right now. Let me be that person for you."

Finally, she pushed herself off his chest and looked up into his eyes, her expression strangely unreadable. "As a friend?" she offered.

He could tell what she was doing. She was giving him one last out. One last chance to not inch their relationship forward. But he didn't really mind it. They were no longer acquaintances or co-conspirators. Hell, he still wasn't even sure the word friends was adequate enough. They certainly weren't lovers. They were just...them.

"Yeah," he confidently answered. "As a friend."


End file.
